Call me Char
by bookworm1137
Summary: The full story of Ella Enchanted from Char's perspective.
1. Banquet

_AN: Yes, I'm well aware that this concept has been done to death, but I'm hoping my story will be a little bit different from all the other Char POVs out there. For one thing, it will be complete, including some scenes where Ella isn't present. Char is his own person, and we know enough from his letters and other people's descriptions of him to guess a lot about his life. So, hopefully this will be interesting. We begin with the scene he mentioned at Ella's mother's funeral, and go from there…_

_And, the disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Char. Or Ella. Or Kyrria, or almost anything you'll see here aside from the words themselves. Having met Gail Carson Levine once, briefly, I'm hoping she'll forgive me._

"…And never forget the allegiance that is due to our native Kyrria." My eyelids were beginning to droop, although I kept my back straight, hands flat on the table, head turned toward Chancellor Thomas as he droned on. I wondered idly just how many times I had heard this same speech. It seemed like at every wedding, funeral, and court function, Chancellor Thomas was called upon to bring out his old notecards and treat us to an hour of posturing on the value of citizenship. It was a wonder he even needed the notecards at this point.

I sighed quietly. I was being unfair. There were worse things than being a bit repetitive in support of me and my family. The man was nothing if not patriotic.

My eyes flickered toward my father, sitting to my right at the head of the table. If he was bored, he gave no sign of it, his face a mask of polite attention. My mind flashed forward to the day when I would sit where he now sat, after who knew how many more years of listening to the Chancellor Thomases of the world blather on. I had best find a way to endure.

In desperation, I scanned the room for something to distract myself. My eyes landed on the Lady Eleanor, and I could feel my mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile. The Lady Eleanor could always be counted on for diversion. Her eyes were fixed not on Chancellor Thomas, but on her own lap, her expression one of intense concentration as her hands moved rapidly. Curious, I shifted slightly in my seat, trying to get a better view of what she was doing. Just then, her gaze shifted back toward Chancellor Thomas, and her hands paused in their work. I found myself staring at her blue paper cocktail napkin for a moment. Then my eyes flicked back up to Chancellor Thomas, his mouth open, hands waving as he made some complicated point. Looking back at the napkin, I thought I might crack a rib trying to suppress the laughter that threatened to overwhelm me as I took in the perfect miniature chancellor.

Unfortunately, Sir Peter, seated beside her, saw the napkin at the same moment. He stiffened, and his wife's shoulders drooped as he grabbed the napkin and crumpled it up, without ever so much as glancing at her. She tentatively placed her hand on his, and he relaxed slightly, but still refused to look at her.

I wondered what might have brought the unlikely pair together. A lively, playful woman like the Lady Eleanor was wasted on Sir Peter. If I were lucky enough to have such a wife, to make even these interminable banquets funny, I certainly wouldn't stifle her.

I looked up once more at the chancellor, and tried to imagine him blue, with the Lady Eleanor delicately poking at his features. It was a mistake. Unable to restrain my amusement any longer, I muttered an apology to my father and strode quickly out into the garden. As soon as the door closed behind me, I doubled over with a mirth bordering on hysteria. By the time I had control of myself and slipped back into the hall, not only was the chancellor's speech finally over, but the servants were just leaving with the empty plates. A pity, that. I caught Lady Eleanor's eye and smiled.

_AN: I know there was nothing really new here, but bear with me. Coming up next, Char starts hearing from his cook about Lady Eleanor's daughter._


	2. Consequences

_AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who's already reviewed, favorited, or put me on story alert. I have readers! I can't even convey how exciting that is. And so, onward! I have a feeling that Char's relationship with his father is going to come up a lot in this story, so if people have thoughts, or think I'm imagining it wrong, let me know._

_Same disclaimer: Ella Enchanted is still not mine. Don't sue me._

The banquet lasted almost until midnight, courtiers dancing around their king with many bows and short speeches and polite laughs. Father stood patiently through it all, nodding and smiling and offering his opinion when it was requested, which wasn't often. He kept one arm around Mother's waist, seeming to take comfort in her silent presence.

A few of the courtiers, especially those with eligible young daughters, gave me the same attentions. I took my cue from Father, doing my best to ignore my empty stomach. Perhaps missing dinner hadn't been the best idea, but I couldn't bring myself to regret it. I hadn't laughed so hard in months.

When the last man finally bowed and took his leave, I thought to slip down to the kitchens, where Lydia, our head cook, was sure to have at least a few leftover tarts for me. Father's voice called me back. "Char. A word." His tone was gentle, but a command nonetheless. I turned, my heart sinking.

"Yes, Father?"

"When you left at dinner. Where did you go?"

I wondered how to answer this. Mother was a great friend of the Lady Eleanor; I might have told her the whole story, and she would only laugh and talk about "that playful spirit." But to admit to the man who hadn't so much as sighed all night that I'd abandoned my future subjects to go and have hysterics in the garden was unbearable. And yet, it was unthinkable to lie.

"I… suddenly found myself unable to maintain my countenance, so I left rather than embarrass myself."

"And why, pray tell… no, never mind, I don't want to know. Listen, Char. Charmont." I winced; my father called me by my full name only when he wished to impress upon me my duties as prince. "I know you're young yet. I'm not averse to you having a bit of fun now and then. In fact, I encourage it. You need to stay sane. But you are also a crown prince, and that involves certain obligations towards those you will one day rule. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father. I understand."

"You cannot expect to come and go from these events as you please. When the crown prince inexplicably disappears, the murmurs start. Was he offended? Bored? Does he find his people unworthy of his time? And what was he slipping off to do? I wouldn't be surprised if by tomorrow half the gossips in court have you slipping off for a tryst with a lady-in-waiting and the other half have you passing messages to Bastian spies."

"I'm sorry, Father."

He sighed. "Like I say, you're young yet. These things will happen. But please, _try_ to be more careful. You must at all times act the part of the upstanding young heir to the kingdom."

"Yes, father." I blanched inwardly. Every time I thought Father was beginning to trust me, something seemed to get in the way. The way he said "young," it was clear he still though of me as a child. A naughty child, needing to be reprimanded. And what else could I expect, given my behavior tonight? I had hoped he might soon trust me to be a part of the military, but suddenly that seemed unlikely. How could I expect him to trust me with other men's lives when I couldn't even manage my own reputation?

To my mortification, my stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly. My father chuckled, breaking the serious mood. "That's right, you missed dinner as well. Perhaps that has been punishment enough?"

I smiled back at him weakly. "I am rather hungry," I admitted.

"Well, then, by all means, go and see what you can beg from the kitchens. I'll see what I can do about damage control – put it about that you were briefly taken ill, or something. Just please, try to remember yourself in the future."

"Thank you father," I said gratefully, and strode from the room. His throaty laughter followed me out.

**. . .**

Lydia stood when I walked into the kitchens. "Your Highness, did you need something?"

I sank into a chair, and gestured to her to do the same. "Please go back to what you were doing, Lydia. I've told you before, you don't need to go through all that formality with me, certainly not when there's no one else about. And my name is Char."

"Yes, your – Char." She perched awkwardly on the edge of a stool and started scrubbing absently at a pot, as if prepared to jump up at a moment's notice. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if there was anything left over from dinner."

She flashed me a look of understanding, and I wondered just how far the story of my gaffe at dinner had spread. "Why, yes, I believe I still have a few tarts around here somewhere. Let me just look."

After a few moments, she set down a plate before me, looking much more at ease now that my unexpected appearance had been explained. The tarts were cold, but I was too hungry to care. Once I had attention to devote to something other than the meal before me, I turned to Lydia, who had returned to her post at the sink. "Why are you still here so late, anyway? Aren't there dishwashers to do that for you?"

"Yes, but I let them go hours ago. These banquets always go until all hours, and truth be told, I don't mind staying. It's peaceful down here at night."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your solitude."

"No, no, Highness, it's no trouble. It's not every day I serve the prince personally." She paused, biting her lip. "Begging your pardon if I'm overstepping myself, but why did you leave without dinner? I hope you didn't take a dislike to the food."

I smiled wryly at my now-empty plate. "Of course not. Your tarts are delicious as always." I hesitated a moment, but the truth was innocuous enough, really. "The truth is, I happened to see the Lady Eleanor making a likeness of Chancellor Thomas from her napkin. I had to leave without dinner so I could go outside and laugh."

Lydia laughed with me then. "Oh, I understand perfectly, Highness. I'm acquainted with the Lady Eleanor's cook, Mandy. We meet at the market sometimes. She helps me pick out the best fruits and vegetables to be serving you – though truth be told, that woman could cook with our compost and somehow, it would still be better than anything you ever tasted. But anyhow, she tells me stories about her mistress. Lady, she calls her, just Lady, but you should hear some of the things she gets up to, her and that daughter of hers."

"That's right, I'd forgotten that Lady Eleanor had a daughter." I racked my brain a moment, but couldn't remember hearing much about her. I didn't think she had ever appeared at court. "Her name is Eleanor as well, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, but she goes by Ella. She says Eleanor is her mother's name, corrects anybody who gets it wrong." I smiled, feeling a bond with this unknown maiden. Although probably, once she corrected people, they called her by her nickname without making any trouble about it, I thought wistfully. Lydia, for all that she seemed friendlier now, was still calling me "Highness," and even some of those who'd known me my whole life balked at calling me "Char."

"So I take it Ella's like her mother, then?"

"Oh yes, and quite a pair they make. Mandy swears that when they think no one's looking, the two of them will spend hours sliding down the stair rails together."

I laughed in surprise. I could just picture the Lady Eleanor, petticoats flying every which way, flying down a stair rail, her daughter close behind. "That sounds wonderful."

Lydia laughed with me. "Oh, certainly, but I'd wager that whichever servant is in charge of polishing those stair rails would disagree with you, Highness."

"Perhaps you're right." I noticed when she cautiously grabbed my plate that the sink was empty. "Well, it looks like you've finished here, and I don't want to be keeping you from your bed. Thank you for the tarts."

"Any time, Highness." She blushed. "It was nice talking to you."

"I was about to say the same to you."

She fidgeted with the plate in her hands for a moment. "Well, goodnight, Highness."

"Goodnight, Lydia."

_Char's life before Ella always seemed a little sad to me. He clearly takes his duties as a prince seriously, but as Sir Stephen tells Ella later on, "__He should frolic with the young folks more, but they're on their best behavior with a prince. "He has his parents, and his sister (more on that later), and now Lydia, apparently, but he almost always has to be in the role of the steadfast young prince. That has to be hard for a teenage boy, especially one as naturally fun-loving as Char._

_Anyway, just so you all know, I'm going to try to update this at least once or twice a week, but I make no promises. If you want me to write faster, you could try reviewing. That's very motivational. Up next: I'm pretty sure we'll actually get to the funeral scene, and thus the true beginning of Ella Enchanted._


	3. News

_Again, thank you to everyone who's reading this! I love you all!_

_In case you didn't get it the first two times: I own nothing. Gail Carson Levine owns everything. Don't sue._

Over the next months, I made a point of stopping by the kitchens every few days. At first, I would make some excuse, asking for a roll or an apple or a piece of cheese, but soon enough Lydia was content to let me sit in a corner of the kitchen, out of her way, and take in the happy energy of undercooks and waiters and dishwashers, all milling about, each knowing his or her place without having to ask. Sometimes, if the day was a particularly busy one, Lydia would even give me some small task, something to stir or chop.

She never forgot to whom she was speaking, never stopped calling me "Highness," but her nature was an easy one, and she chatted with me amiably enough. She would tell me about her husband and his job in the palace stables, her search for a new meat supplier, her troubles with training a new scullery maid who seemed unable to make it through the day without dropping something.

This latter subject usually led her to relate the latest news from Mandy about Lady Eleanor's young daughter and the mischief she was getting up to. It seemed that Ella often helped Mandy in the kitchens, but she as clumsy as Lydia's own scullery maid, and contrary to boot. Lydia and I would laugh as she recounted tale after tale of Mandy and Ella's misadventures. I came to feel as though I knew Lady Eleanor's family nearly as well as my own.

Early that summer, I came into the kitchens after a particularly long meeting with Father and his advisors about the state of the troops stationed along the Rhinian border. While Kyrria and Rhina were largely on peaceful terms, it had been only thirty years since Rhinian rebels had tried to sneak across the border to assassinate my father's father in some kind of political statement. The rebels had been apprehended and King Elroy of Rhina had issued a formal apology, but since then, we had heightened security on all our borders, particularly the one to the south that we shared with Rhina.

The problem was, most of the soldiers posted there had not been alive during the assassination attempt, and their commanding officers were complaining that they were inattentive to their duties, sneaking off at night to drink and carouse with the Rhinian maidens in a nearby town. After much discussion, my father had decided to go and review them personally, hoping to impress upon them the significance of their assignment, before continuing to the Rhinian capital of Strill for a goodwill visit to King Elroy.

All through the meeting, he had barely looked at me, and addressed me only once, to ask me not to mention the plan to my mother until he had a chance to speak with her. I didn't know why he had even allowed me to be a part of the meeting, when he clearly had no intention of letting me anywhere near the military anytime soon. Tired and frustrated, I wanted nothing more than the comforting smell of baking bread and a dose of Lydia's friendly chatter.

She was busy frosting a large cake when I came in, but smiled at me and indicated that I should make myself comfortable. I threw myself down, already feeling a little better. The world of the kitchens always seemed a little removed from my normal life at court, as if politics wouldn't dare intrude where there was real work to be done.

For a few minutes, I was content just to watch Lydia at work. Her hands never faltered in their journey from bowl to cake and back again, and it was clear she was completely focused on the task before her. When the cake was completely covered in a smooth layer of white, she turned to me.

"Nice to see you, as always, Highness."

I sighed. "Lydia, when will I convince you to call me 'Char'?" It was an old grievance, and almost a running joke at this point, but some days I just didn't need the extra reminder of my station.

"Now, Highness, if I did that, I might forget who I was talking to, and start complaining about the royal family that seems to need to throw a banquet every few days and keep me cooking. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" If nothing else, she could tease me easily enough now. That was something.

"I suppose not. Although I agree with you, we do have far too many banquets for our own good. Is that what the cake is for?"

Her face darkened. "No, I thought to bring this to Mandy, to ease the burden of preparing for the funeral. It's too much for Sir Peter to expect her to be cooking at a time like this. And she did mention that Miss Ella likes spice cake."

I frowned. "What do you mean? What funeral?" I hadn't even heard that anyone in the household was ill. One of the servants, perhaps?

Lydia started visibly. "You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what? I've been in meetings all day. What has happened?"

"Oh, it's the most dreadful thing. Lady Eleanor took sick a few days ago, sudden-like, no one even thought it was too serious, but then she took a turn for the worse, and I heard from Mandy this morning that she'd died." I inhaled sharply. Lady Eleanor had been barely forty. Just last week, Lydia had been telling me how she and Ella had hidden their maid's mop and then tried to convince her it had been stolen by ghosts. And now she was gone? I spared a thought for Mother. She would be devastated.

"How is the family holding up?" I asked distantly.

"Well, no one can really tell, with Sir Peter. He was sent for when his wife's condition worsened, but he only just arrived, and right away started making plans for a grand funeral reception. But Ella, she's inconsolable. Won't even come out of her room. And Mandy seemed pretty shook up herself. I think she blames herself, poor thing. Kept saying something about soup."

I wanted to ask about the soup, wanted to ask about any number of things, but my mind was a blank. It occurred to me that I'd never really known Lady Eleanor, except as an occasional presence at court functions and a figure in Lydia's stories, but I still felt her loss. And I couldn't even imagine Ella's grief, at losing a parent so young. Suddenly the problems that had seemed so important a few minutes ago were trivial, petty. So what if Father didn't want me to be a part of the military? I knew he and Mother loved me, and I couldn't even imagine losing either one of them.

I'm not sure what Lydia said after that, or how I replied, but she could tell I was upset, so soon enough she left me to my thoughts and returned to her cake. I sat there for quite some time, my thoughts always returning to Lady Eleanor's broken household.

_I'm sorry if any of you are impatient for the funeral scene itself, but this seemed like a more natural ending point. The good news is, I'm impatient too, so expect another update in the next day or two._

_In some ways, this is a little frustrating to write, because there can't be too many real surprises. This military duty, which is pretty important to Char, can't be a huge plot point because you already know that he will get his long-awaited assignment. I did get to make up a political situation, because I figure that since Kyrria and Ayortha are on such good terms, that border wouldn't need to be patrolled much, and it turns out that GCL never mentions another country. Apologies for the earlier reference to Bastian spies, I looked that up in the book, and it turns out Bast is just a Kyrrian town, not another country. Eventually I'll change that to Rhinian spies._

_Okay, that's enough of me musing about my own writing. Next up: well, I'm sure you can guess. Keep reviewing!_


	4. Funeral

_People's reviews make me smile :)_

_Keep them coming, please!_

_Once more, with feeling: I own nothing. Also, just to make the copyright infringement complete, assume from now on that anytime Ella and Char appear together in a scene, that scene and any direct quotes from the characters are pulled straight from the book, which (to recap) is NOT MINE._

Father departed two days later for Rhina. He and Mother said their goodbyes at the palace, but when I approached to clasp hands with him, he pulled me aside. "Walk with me, Char."

Puzzled, I complied, and we made our leisurely way out to the stables. Father always insisted on caring for his own horse, so I stood by while he saw to the necessary preparations. Finally he turned to me. "Char, I think you know that I hate to leave right now. It's beastly timing, to be sure, and if I hadn't already sent a messenger ahead to Rhina, I would postpone. But as it is, I can't risk the insult." I nodded. We'd been through all this before. "I know your mother is hurting. Lady Eleanor may have been the best friend she had outside this court. I need you to be there for her, Char. You are, to all intents and purposes, responsible for the country while I'm away. But more than that, I need you to be responsible for her. Accompany her to the funeral. See to it that she eats, that she takes care of herself."

"Of course, Father." It hadn't even occurred to me that I would not attend the funeral, but I was still glad of the order. And it wasn't often that Father talked to me as if I were his equal, someone to be trusted with those tasks he couldn't perform himself.

"Good. I knew I could count on you." The words echoed in my head. He knew he could count on me. I wanted to say something, to tell him how much his trust meant to me, but old habits die hard. I could only fall back on the formality ever present between us.

"Thank you, Father. Safe journey."

"And to you, strength. I'll write as soon as I can. Goodbye, son."

"Goodbye." I watched as he mounted and walked his horse forward to join a small group of men at arms. I watched as they took off at a canter. I stood there, watching, long after the little troop was out of sight.

**. . .**

Keeping my promise, I went up to check on Mother before the funeral the next day. She said little, but pulled me into a tight hug. "I love you, Char."

"I love you too, Mother." I paused. "Are you all right?"

She held me at arm's length. "So, your father wants you to check up on me, does he?" I made a half-hearted noise of protest, and she laughed. "I won't say that it isn't difficult, or that I won't miss her. But I'm quite sure she wouldn't have wanted me moping about. And I certainly don't need my son for a nursemaid."

I stepped away from the circle of her arms to look her in the eyes. I had grown taller than Mother only in the past year, and I still wasn't quite accustomed to looking down at her. It was a queer feeling, as though she was unutterably small and fragile, and I was indeed the nursemaid charged with her protection. Her broad face was set, a small smile pasted in place for my benefit, but I could see that she refused to make eye contact. She didn't want me to see her pain, but it was there, clearly written in every line of her face.

Father was wrong. Mother didn't need my help to remember to eat, or to take care of herself, or to do everything that was proper for Queen Daria of Kyrria. She needed permission to grieve. But she would refuse to hear such a thing from her seventeen-year-old son, and so I said only, "Then let us go."

**. . .**

The funeral was as any other funeral, a crowd of people in black, in varying degrees of true or pretended grief, struggling to seem attentive to Chancellor Thomas's speech. To the man's credit, he had added a few lines appropriate to a funeral, though not to the funeral of such a lady. I was certain that if Lady Eleanor had her way, there would be jugglers and fire eaters and people laughing uproariously at one another's stories.

My eyes fell to her face in the open casket. It wasn't Lady Eleanor anymore. This lovely, vacant corpse might have been anyone, and these people could create a story together of a Lady Eleanor who had indeed been nothing more than a "dutiful parent, loyal citizen, and steadfast spouse." A great deal more accommodating, then, in death than she had been in life. I wondered how many of these people would truly miss the chaos she brought into their neatly ordered lives.

My gaze fell then on the maiden nearest the casket, her hand in Sir Peter's. This, I presumed, was Ella. How strange, to feel as though I already knew the lass, and yet to be beholding her for the first time. She looked older than I had expected, her figure already blossoming into that of womanhood, clearly accentuated by the cut of her silky black dress. Her green eyes were bright, and I suspected that she was not far from tears.

After a moment, I noticed something else. The eyes of nearly everyone at the funeral, including those of Sir Peter, flicked now and then toward Mother and me, the royal spectacle at an otherwise dull affair. I had grown so used to such attention that I barely took note of it anymore. But Ella never glanced my way. She might not even have realized I was present. Her eyes were fixed on a spot just above the casket, as though determined not to look at the woman within.

I did not grudge her this preoccupation, but I found myself wishing she would look at me.

Just then, Chancellor Thomas's final words sounded, and all was silent for a moment. Traditionally, it was the child of the deceased who acted next, shutting the lid on the coffin, symbolizing the end of the parent's influence in her life. Ella, though, stood frozen, staring into her mother's vacant face. Just as the murmur of confusion began to rise, Sir Peter pushed her forward, and she woodenly pulled the casket lid closed.

As the click sounded in the quiet summer air, she let out a keening wail of pure grief. The entire assembly stared as she stood, tears streaming down her face, dark hair streaming out behind her in the slight breeze, screaming her broken heart to the world. There was an almost unearthly beauty in her at that moment. She existed outside of time and space, outside of this funereal dance of evincing only as much regret as was socially acceptable.

And yet it was only a moment before her father drew her into his chest, another before she ran off, leaving us, all a little shell-shocked, to resume the conventions she'd ignored.

A receiving line formed, to file past the grave as the casket was lowered in, and to pay our respects to Sir Peter. The crowd parted to let Mother and I to the front of the line.

Sir Peter's hand was hot and moist as he clasped my own, clearly reveling in the act of shaking hands with a prince. I said all that was proper of my condolences.

He smiled lightly. "Your Highness is too kind. I am sure my late wife would have appreciated your condescension." I was sure his late wife would have seen me as more than an opportunity to be seen with royalty. "You are of course welcome to return to our manor after the ceremony."

I remembered what Lydia had said of a funeral reception. I didn't wish to add to the burden of the event with the necessity of catering to royalty. "I thank you, sir, but I believe we must decline." He looked as though he would like to press the issue, but his sense of decorum kept him silent. "Once again, you and your daughter have my deepest sympathies."

I waited while Mother carried on a similar conversation. I wondered how much Sir Peter knew of Mother's friendship for Lady Eleanor. He had been away from home enough in the past few years, perhaps he thought we were here only out of courtesy to a popular subject. Perhaps he even thought the compliment was to him. That might explain the satisfaction in his countenance as Mother moved off. I could see no particular signs of grief, and I wondered yet again what might have brought the two together. I supposed it didn't matter now, except perhaps for the daughter's sake.

My thoughts turned again to Ella. She was still absent, and I wondered if perhaps I should go in search of her. But no, that wasn't my responsibility. I had to remind myself again that we had never met.

Mother had turned to watch the dirt being shoveled into the grave, covering the casket forever. I touched her hand gently, and she turned to give me some semblance of a smile, but I sensed she would prefer to be alone just now. The others quickly made their way through the line and into waiting carriages, presumably heading to the promised reception.

I turned and wandered deeper into the cemetery. My feet carried me to the area reserved for those of royal blood, and I absently read a few of the headstones. Those I had known were mainly distant cousins, dukes and earls who had come to court looking to curry favor. The man whose headstone I stood in front of now had been particularly unpleasant, always implying that he would have ruled the country better than my father or I, and that we were unworthy of our status. It had been almost a relief when he had been thrown from his horse when I was twelve.

Now that I thought of it, I had never lost anyone close to me. My grandparents had passed away before I turned three, and apart from my immediate family, I had no close relationships. Lady Eleanor had been my window into a different kind of world, a world of fun and laughter and no inhibitions, but even she had never really been a friend. And now she was gone. I found that I was crying, and instantly felt guilty. I had no right to cry for her.

Ella, in all her ethereal grief, she had lost everything. And as if thinking of her summoned her forth, a sound of movement behind me drew my attention as she emerged from beneath a weeping willow, her eyes red and her dress in disarray.

She seemed calmer now, but I still felt as though I was intruding on the privacy of her grief. Yet I must account for my presence somehow. I remembered the tombstone behind me. "Cousin of mine," I explained. "Never liked him. I liked your mother." "Liked" didn't quite cover it, nor did my detached tone, but I could think of nothing else to say.

She said nothing. I was used to this; when I was younger, my parents used to allow me to join the children of courtiers in their play, and there were always a few who froze up at the presence of a prince. Yet I was disappointed. I had hoped the daughter of Lady Eleanor might have more spirit than that. When it became clear she would make no reply, I turned and headed back to her mother's grave. After all, she was entitled to her solitude at such a time.

To my surprise, she walked with me, though perhaps she was merely making her own way back. She certainly kept her distance. But suddenly, I was resolved that she should know me. I moved closer. "You can call me Char," I said. "Everyone else does." Not strictly true, but I wished everyone would. It was harder to be stiff and formal with "Char" than with "Your Royal Highness."

Still she said nothing. "My father calls me Char too." I was an annoyance to her in a time when she was thinking only of her mother, but I needed her to speak to me, just once, to call me by my name.

She must have felt she must make some reply, because she murmured "Thank you."

Automatically, I corrected her: "Thank you, Char." But it seemed ridiculous to push the issue farther. I searched for something I could tell her, to account for what her mother had meant to me, to let her know she wasn't the only one who would truly miss Lady Eleanor. I found myself telling her the story of that banquet, months ago. Ella gave a sad smile.

I felt the first drops of rain starting, and hurried my pace a bit as the grave came into sight. Mother must be waiting in our carriage, out of the rain, because only Sir Peter remained.

Ella looked puzzled. "Where did everyone go?"

"They all left before I came to find you." Had I come to find her? I had wanted to find her, certainly. Perhaps she would find that impertinent, considering we'd never been introduced. Another worry occurred as I realized she should rightfully have been a part of the receiving line. "Did you want them to wait?"

Her response was decided. "No, I didn't want any of them to wait." Her meaning was clear enough; I should not have stayed, should not have come looking for her. I was mortified enough to try to explain.

"I know all about you." I wasn't just a stranger come to harry her in her grief.

"You do? How could you?" I realized belatedly how my words might have sounded to her. As though there was something not right in my interest in her.

"Your cook and our cook meet at the market. She talks about you." Harmless enough, surely. I knew she was close with her cook as well. "Do you know much about me?"

"No." Interesting. Even if Lydia didn't speak of me to Mandy, I thought everyone in Kyrria presumed to know all about their prince. "What do you know?"

"I know you can imitate people just as Lady Eleanor could. Once you imitated your manservant to his face, and he wasn't sure whether he was the servant or you were. You make up your own fairy tales and you drop things and trip over things. I know you once broke a whole set of dishes." I smiled as I remembered Lydia recounting that particular story. Mandy, it seemed, had not been pleased.

"I slipped on ice!"

"Ice chips you spilled before you slipped on them." I laughed, and she smiled with me, though protesting weakly that it had been an accident. Her face was lovely when she smiled.

I didn't want the conversation to end. Ella was easy to talk to. But we had reached Sir Peter, who gave a formal bow and thanked me for "accompanying his daughter." I bowed back, not knowing what to say.

This seemed to be enough for Sir Peter, who turned toward their carriage. "Come, Eleanor."

"Ella. I'm Ella." The correction made me smile, remembering the first time I'd heard that Ella went by a nickname. I'd fancied it as a bond then; well, maybe I hadn't been so far off. The exasperation in her voice was familiar.

Sir Peter barely registered that she'd spoken. "Ella then. Come, Ella." And with another bow, he climbed nimbly into the carriage. I stepped forward to help Ella in, but she was awkward with me, seeming unused to the gesture. She was off balance enough not to notice that her skirt was caught on the door, and when the footman went to close it, a long strip of the silk ripped off.

I laughed helplessly, though I could feel her eyes on me. The strip flapped in the breeze like a flag of victory as the carriage drove off.

_So, there it is. The story has officially started. Hope it was worth the wait - life got in the way this week, and also, turns out I have no idea how Sir Peter would act with Char. He was always a slightly confusing character - he has this really arrogant way of assuming he's entitled to Ella's complete obedience, and he's casually superior with the elves and Dame Olga, but that wouldn't cut it with royalty, so I tried to limit the interaction as much as possible. Up next: some Char/mother and sister fluff._


	5. Family

_Hey look, another update! And it has officially been more than a week – I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you all antsy. Also, I'm going to dispense with the disclaimers from now on. You get it, and I get it. Just take it for granted, for all future chapters, that all of the characters and some of the words belong to the incomparable Gail Carson Levine, and I'm not her._

Mother was quiet when I found my way back to the carriage, and I left her to her own thoughts, giving a quiet command to the coachman to take us home. To own the truth, I was scarcely less preoccupied. I had thought Ella cowed by my royal presence, but by the end of the conversation we were nearly bantering. I was full of a desire to see her again, speak to her, learn her secrets. I admitted to myself that the meeting had probably meant little to her, and that I was simply hungry for company of any kind, but that scarcely made the prospect of seeing her again less appealing.

In the midst of this revery, it took a moment to realize that Mother was trying to get my attention. "Char? Char!"

I finally looked up. "I'm sorry. What is it, Mother?"

"We've arrived, dear." She smiled – almost a smirk – and held the door open for me. "What were you thinking of so intently?"

I blushed. "Nothing in particular."

"Indeed. And where, pray tell, did you disappear to after the service?" She clasped my elbow as we made our way up the steps to the castle, as if to prevent my escape.

"I visited a few of the family graves." And I had, certainly. I wasn't sure why I was reluctant to mention Ella. Something in Mother's tone made me hold back.

"I thought perhaps I saw you returning in company."

I could see there was no point in evasiveness. "Yes, I met with Lady Eleanor's daughter, and escorted her back."

Mother smiled gently. "And so here is your 'nothing in particular.' I am not much acquainted with Lady Eleanor's daughter, but she looked quite lovely today."

I wasn't sure of the appropriate response to such a statement. "I feel for her loss."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Char, I tease, but I would very much like to see you spending more time with people your own age, particularly young ladies. You are approaching an age to be married, and your father and I agree that we'd like you to marry for love."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Mother. I hardly mean to marry Ella tomorrow."

"Oh, it's Ella now, is it? No, darling, that's not what I meant at all. Lady Eleanor is… was… an incredible woman, and I'm sure her daughter is likewise." Mother's face darkened at the past tense. "But I don't mean to dictate such a choice. Quite the opposite. It's only that I'd like you to make an effort to get to know her, or at least, to get to know someone outside this family."

"I know plenty of people outside this family," I retorted, stung. "I've been introduced to half the eligible maidens in Kyrria, and they all stand around and simper and blush and think to themselves how fine it would be to marry a prince. Forgive me if I don't want to know such maidens better."

Mother looked taken aback, halting where she was on the stairs. I sighed, already regretting my outburst, but she didn't seem angry. After a moment, she stroked my hand sympathetically. "My poor Char."

"Why poor Char?" I grimaced as Cecilia popped out of the great hall. Just what I needed – another witness to this conversation.

Mother grinned wickedly. "He has to contend with the young ladies fawning all over him."

Cecilia snickered. "Poor Char indeed. Poor ladies, more like. They don't know what they're letting themselves in for."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're turning into almost as much of a stuffed shirt as Father. Besides, you snore."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"How would you even know?"

"My rooms are right next to yours. We're only separated by a foot of solid stone. Not nearly enough to drown out the racket you make."

"Oh, and I suppose you're so much better, practicing on that lute of yours at all hours. Besides, even if I do snore, I'm sure most of these ladies would endure a great deal to marry a prince. Perhaps they would simply never sleep again. They would stay awake all night, the better to soak in the aura of royalty."

"Some aura. The aura of the stuffed shirt."

"Believe it or not, you're royalty too, Cecilia."

"Well, yes, but no one cares three straws for my aura. I shall be shipped off to marry some fantastically important foreign prince, and you'll never hear from me again."

"And I don't know how I'll ever survive the loss," I said lightly. But it wasn't really a joke. At fifteen, Cecilia was fast approaching marriageable age, and there was a good chance her marriage would serve as a political alliance to one of our neighbors. I couldn't stand the thought of my perfectly effervescent sister far away, trapped in a loveless marriage. She was still practically a baby. Ella's age, I thought suddenly. Ella and my sister would be the same age.

Mother's dry voice cut into my musings. "As delightful as this little show of sisterly affection is, Cecilia, don't you have a lesson to get to?"

She made a face. "Oh, Mother, do I have to? Etiquette lessons are so dull."

I cuffed her lightly on the shoulder. "See if you're still saying that when the Ayorthaian delegation arrives and you have to remember the proper way to address every member of the party."

"I suppose." She waved a hand dramatically in the direction of the great hall. "Speaking of addressing people, Frances is waiting for you in the great hall," she said, naming one of my father's advisers. "I think he wants you to greet the Bastian trade merchants tonight."

"Oh, lovely."

She smirked at me as she flounced out of the room. "Well, etiquette lessons beckon. Have fun!"

"It's hardly supposed to be fun, Cecilia."

"Well, have a good princely obligation, then."

"Thanks. Have a good lesson. Mother, you'll be all right while I meet with Frances?"

"Darling, I am queen of an entire country. I believe I can manage to keep busy for a few hours while my son is in a meeting. Tell Frances to say hello to his wife for me." And with that, the three of us took off in three different directions, the subject of my love life hopefully forgotten for now.

_How is Cecilia so much fun when she's grown up in the same family as Char, you ask? Well, she's a girl, and not set to inherit, so I'm guessing her obligations, and maybe even her "aura," would be a little less daunting. Also, it's a lot more fun to write banter than the kind of stiff, formal speech that Char has with his parents. Up next: Lydia again, at least briefly. I'm not sure what else._


	6. Second meeting

_Hey everybody, good news! Classes are over and it's officially reading week, aka "put off studying for finals as long as possible" week. And what better way to procrastinate than to spend a little quality time with everyone's favorite Kyrrian prince? I guarantee two, or even three updates this week. Hopefully that makes up a little bit for taking so long on the last few chapters._

It was past midnight when I finally made my weary way up the stairs to my rooms. Frances had indeed wanted me to meet with the Bastian trade merchants, and after mediating hours of discussions on where they might sell their goods without disrupting the regular commerce of Frell, I was pulled aside by the housekeeper of all people. Apparently the trade delegation had brought two more merchants than expected, and she hadn't cleared enough rooms. Normally such an issue would go to Mother, but Mother was secluded in her rooms – I suspected she was finally giving in to the tears she had refused to shed at the funeral – and the housekeeper was loath to disturb her. So, I spent the next few hours rearranging rooming assignments, and then helping the housekeeper to run around informing everyone of their new lodgings.

My manservant woke me the next morning just as the nine o'clock bell was ringing, and I headed down for another full day of meetings.

I thought ruefully of all the times I had sat idly by as my father went about the business of ruling the kingdom, wishing for some larger role to play, wishing to be of some use to someone. If this was what it was to have a larger role, I would happily play at being my father's shadow for some years to come.

The next morning I awoke to the sound of Cecilia practicing her lute. I looked out the window and groaned. The sun was only just rising. I had been counting on at least a few more hours of sleep. Grumbling to myself, I went to bang on Cecilia's door.

"Well, hello, brother dear. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Cecilia, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's not long since the six o'clock bell, I believe. Why?"

"And do you really think it necessary to be playing that thing at dawn, when most decent people are asleep?"

"I think it's the perfect time, since my lessons don't start for another few hours. Gives me time to get some practice in before I go down to breakfast. And if by 'decent people,' you mean yourself, well, you're awake now, aren't you?"

"Yes, thanks to you. I don't know why I let you have that lute in the first place. I might have to reclaim it one of these days."

"Oh, will you give it up already? The whole court might tell that story until they're blue in the face, but you were six! A six-year-old willing to share his toys, whoop de doo! Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll get back to playing _my_ instrument, which has been _mine_ for the past eleven years."

"How is it that I'm the one who was awakened at dawn by his sister's insane musical tendencies, and you're the one having a temper tantrum?"

"Because that's what little sisters do. Go away, Char." And with that, she closed the door in my face. A moment later, her song resumed, quite a bit louder and more emphatic than before.

I stood there for a moment or two, leaning against her closed door. I was quite sure that my father's advisors had another long day planned for me. At the moment, though, and for at least two more hours, no one expected anything of me. I was free. My feet were carrying me down to my breakfast when I realized that at least one of the advisors must be an early riser, ready to pounce on me the moment I showed my face. I turned and headed for the kitchens.

Lydia was in her usual place at the counter, rolling out dough. "Good morning, Lydia. Out of curiosity, do you ever sleep?"

She grinned and handed me a croissant. "I can't think what you mean, Highness."

"I don't think I've ever come into this kitchen when you weren't here, hard at work."

"I just like to keep busy, Highness. Idle hands and all that. Speaking of which…" she pulled a bushel of apples from beneath the counter. "I've been trying to think what to do with these. My boy picked them out of the orchard for me, thought I could make pies. But they're not pie apples, they're eating apples, and I didn't have the heart to tell him."

I laughed. "Well, your apple pies are delicious. I can't fault him for the effort."

"Well, thank you. I don't suppose you have a use for apples?"

"Not for a whole bushelful, certainly." I grabbed one and took a bite. "I'll take this one off your hands, though. And maybe one for the road."

"Please, take as many as you like. No one who comes into the kitchens today will leave without pockets full of apples."

"Well, all right, then." Inspiration struck. "Perhaps I'll take a few down to the stables. I'm sure the horses will make light work of them."

"Oh, thank you, Highness." I left the kitchen five minutes later, positively bulging with all the apples stored about my person.

Once I was outside the castle walls, though, I stopped noticing where I was walking, lost in the feeling of the breeze in my hair, the rustling of the leaves, the sun on the back of my neck. I wasn't Prince Charmont here, I was a boy out for a stroll on a lovely day. I wandered along the edge of the castle moat for I don't know how long.

I rounded a corner and there she was, in the royal menagerie, her back to me. It seemed natural, in this moment, that Ella should be there. I leaned against a tree, studying her. She stood before the dragon my father had captured when I was seven. I remember standing where she now stood many times throughout my childhood, captivated by the majesty of the near-constant stream of flames. Now I was no less captivated by the girl swathed in his fiery halo. She was beautiful.

She moved away then, moving with measured paces toward a centaur standing near the edge of his island. I smiled at her care, but he would likely still run when she got too close. Without thinking, I stepped toward her, my hand reaching for an apple. "Here."

She turned and smiled at me, taking the apple. "Thank you." Bolstered by the sight of food, the centaur and two others approached us. She threw the apple at him. We both watched him eat it. Then she turned back to me, still smiling. "I always expect them to thank me or to say, `How dare you stare?'"

"They're not smart enough to talk. See how blank their eyes are." I had asked my mother the same thing, on my first visit to the menagerie. I wondered belatedly if I was talking to her like a child.

"If they had words, they wouldn't be able to think of anything to say."

I stared at her for a moment, surprised and more pleased than I could account for. Then I burst out laughing. "That's funny! You're funny. As the Lady Eleanor was." Then my brain caught up with me. Two days after the funeral, surely the last thing Ella wanted was to be reminded of her mother. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you."

"I think of her often," she said quietly. I walked with her in silence as she continued along the moat, searching for something else to say. I remembered the apples in my pockets. I must look quite ridiculous, with little round protuberances at my hips. I eased one out, and then didn't know what to do with it.

"Would you like an apple too?" I asked, holding it out to her. She stared at me. I thought for a moment that she was more affronted by my presence than I'd realized. Then I wondered if she was having some kind of fit, as she kicked out with her right foot. Then she took the apple with a stiff arm and I realized that she was imitating a centaur. Quite well, in fact. I laughed again, delighted. "I like you. I'm quite taken with you."

And I was. It was wonderful to be out, in the sunshine, a pretty girl at my side, without having t worry about etiquette or watching what I said. Ella was so much like her mother, a welcome change from the simpering maidens I'd complained of to my mother.

I reached absently into my pocket for another apple, savoring the crisp taste on my tongue. I was absurdly pleased with the apples for bringing Ella and I together. I decided when I got back to the palace I would take the rest of the bushel off Lydia's hands as well.

_And thus I solve the mystery of why Char is wandering the menagerie early in the morning with apples stashed about his person. As always, let me know what you think, and the rest of the scene will follow shortly._


	7. Danger

_Look, another chapter!_

We walked on. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, how long it would be before someone came looking for me. I stole a glance at Ella, only to find her watching me. We both blushed and looked away.

Fortunately, we had just arrived at the parrot cages, and the squawking effectively broke the tension. I had never spent much time here – the noise came as a shock. The keeper was engaged in feeding his birds, but when he turned and saw us he gave the customary bow, and grinned at Ella, before turning back to his bird, all ceremony forgotten. I liked him already.

"This one's new," he informed us. "Speaks Gnomic and doesn't shut up."

The parrot opened its beak and let out a stream of strange, throaty syllables – Gnomic, I presumed. I had no feeling for languages – I had learned Ayorthaian because I must, but my languages tutor had spent little time on the exotic tongues; the giants, elves and gnomes mostly spoke enough Kyrrian to get by on the rare occasions when they needed to deal with the crown, and of course there was no point talking to the ogres.

To my surprise, Ella immediately repeated the parrot's phrase. It was unspeakably strange, hearing such harsh sounds coming from such a fragile-looking maiden, like finding a fern in a rose garden. I wondered how many times she could surprise me in one day. "You speak Gnomic!"

She smiled. "I like to make the sounds. I only know what a few words mean."

"She does it just right, doesn't she, your Highness?" Of course she did. I felt I should make some effort to do the same, though I was sure to embarrass myself. I could vividly recall my tutor screaming at me as I struggled to force my mouth to shape the right syllables – _"No, no, no! You just told the Ayorthaian ambassador that you admired his _gown_! You're not trying, you're not listening. Again."_

I shook my head once, trying to dispel the man's image from my brain. He was long gone. I cast my mind back to what I'd just heard. "Fawithkor evtuk brizzay..." it was no use. I could hear the words in my mind, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. "It sounded better when you did it." Ella only smiled at me again, and I felt silly. What did it matter if she could imitate a parrot and I couldn't? I could begrudge her nothing.

The bird, meanwhile, was still talking. "Do you know what he said?" Ella asked the keeper.

He shook his head. "Do you know, sir?" How on earth should I know? They were both looking at me like of course I must have all the answers. I was royalty, after all.

"No," I said truthfully. "It sounds like gargling."

After a moment, Simon excused himself to attend to other visitors, and I stood by as Ella addressed each bird in turn. I had no idea what she was saying, but I had no doubt that she was speaking to each in its own language. I memorized the look in her eyes, completely focused on the birds before her. She looked almost wistful, as though there were something important about this particular visit.

Finally she called good-bye to the keeper, and we walked on. Ella was silent a moment, then turned to me. "Did you understand any of that, Char?"

I relished the way she said my name, the way it rolled off her tongue as if we'd known each other forever. "No. I confess, I know very little of the exotic tongues."

"Well, now, that won't do. What if you come upon an ogre, and he refuses to leave unless you say goodbye to him in his own language?"

"Well, I suppose I would have to fetch you to translate for me."

"Or I could just teach you now. It's 'ahthOOn SSyng.'"

For no one else would I willingly subject myself to this kind of humiliation. "Atun sing." Even as the words were leaving my mouth, I knew the sound wasn't right. I had another brief flash of my languages tutor, purple with rage.

"No, ahthOOn SSyng. You want to hold the S a little longer, so it's an evil sort of hiss."

"Atun ssssssing." It was strange – this wasn't right either, but I was almost enjoying myself. I could picture what Ella meant about the hiss, and while I couldn't do it, I loved to hear her demonstrate.

She laughed. "Well, that was certainly longer. You just don't sound evil enough."

"Well, if I'm to try diplomacy on an ogre, I guess I'll have to work on that. What does it mean, exactly? Just 'goodbye'?"

"Hmm… well, literally it means 'much eating.' Which is probably not the right sentiment in any case."

"I should think not! What if he took it as an invitation?"

"I see your point. Good thing you can't pronounce it anyway, then. Okay, try this one. Porr of pess waddo. That's 'walk in the shade' in Elfian. Harmless enough, right."

"Pore off pehs wahdo."

She looked at me for a second. "I can't think of anything to correct, really. You just sound so very Kyrrian. Elfian is supposed to sound smooth, like shadows on leaves."

"I think it's a lost cause. If they heard me, the elves would never let me stand under a tree again."

"The gnomes would hit you over the head with a shovel."

"Would the ogres decide I was unworthy of consumption?" I hadn't been paying much attention, but I realized now that we had wandered quite close to the perimeter around the captive ogres' hut. I sincerely hoped that they hadn't heard me attempting to speak Ogrese – it was one thing to play at languages for Ella, but an ogre would surely laugh at me, and then find a way to use my shame against me. The one at the window watched me with leering eyes.

",pwich aooyeh zchoaK" came a voice from nearby. Considering everything I had just heard, I was pretty confident this was Gnomic.

"Did you hear that?" asked Ella. My brain caught up with me. There was little chance that an ogre would be speaking Gnomic without good reason, and anyone else around here was too close to the ogres for safety.

"Didn't sound like an ogre," I said doubtfully. "Where did it come from?"

As if in response, the voice repeated itself, and I watched in horror as a gnome toddler appeared well within the guards' perimeter around the ogres hut. He must have gotten in through the aqueducts – I would have to speak with the guards about posting a man at that opening. But that didn't help us now; the ogre had already seen the child, and he could easily finish his snack before any of the guards could get an arrow off.

I was closest. I ran forward without thinking, grabbing the child back from the ogre's reaching arm, and backed away, automatically placing myself between Ella and the ogre with the child safe in my arms.

Nothing in life is simple. I was a stranger to this unfortunate little gnome, and I wasn't sure how long I could hold him when he was struggling so hard to get away. Ella offered to take him, and I obliged, turning back to the incensed ogre, who was hissing something in Ogrese, scolding me. Where were the guards? We needed to get the child away from this place, but it went against everything in me to turn my back on an angry ogre, at least without the cover of a few arrows aimed at his head. This was why we paid these guards, was it not? I really would have to have a serious talk with them.

Then an odd thing happened. The ogre started laughing. My first, wild thought was that he'd found in my head my attempts at speaking Ogrese, but he was looking at Ella. I wondered what he'd found in her head. Then I cursed myself as I realized he had found nothing, only realized he could persuade her to give him what he wanted. I rapidly went through the defense techniques I'd learned in basic training with the military. Should I clap my hands over her ears? Shout to drown him out? But no, he was too close, she would still be able to hear. And even if he couldn't get to her, as soon as I heard him I would stop fighting. What I wouldn't give for the beeswax the men used in the field.

But the ogre's voice, when it came, was the usual harsh rasp. I relaxed slightly, though I still wasn't sure what he was up to. His words were surprisingly commanding, considering they had no power. "Come to me and bring the child."

I glanced at Ella, mystified, only to cry out in alarm as anguish twisted her features. What was happening? This wasn't part of the ogre's power, to torture his victims from afar. She was actually shaking, her eyes speaking depths of fear and pain. I wondered if I could just scoop her up and carry her away from this place and this monster, but I didn't think I could hold both her and the gnome at once. I looked around wildly for the guards. I saw the problem now – they were all gathered around a window on the other end of the hut, where an ogre seemed to be making a doomed attempt at escape.

Our ogre spoke again. "Obey me this instant. Come. Now." His voice was still rough with command, no hint of the persuasion I had been trained to expect. And yet still Ella trembled, and as I turned to her, ready to hold her to me, anything to end her evident pain, she took one slow step toward the ogre.

I stood, frozen in shock, as Ella walked straight into the ogre's waiting arms.

_I was going to keep going, but this really is quite a long scene, so I figured it was probably best to end where the chapter ends in the book. Poor Char - I'm assuming that even if he's never had actual military duty, he's at least had some training in how to deal with ogres, and this is definitely not in the handbook. Up next: gnomes!_


	8. Gnomes

I had no idea what was going on. Ella was moving as if pulled forward by some invisible force, with an agonizing pause after each step. Helpless, I called after her, "Where are you going?" Not a useful question. More to the point, why was she going? What was happening?

She didn't look back. "I must."

How was I supposed to fight this? Surely she didn't _want_ to be eaten. "Stop! I command you to stop." By royal command, don't do this. Don't leave me.

And she did stop, only steps away from where the ogre might have grabbed her. The guards had apparently finally noticed something was wrong, and came to crowd around the window as the scowling ogre disappeared inside. I felt almost dizzy with relief. And confusion. I grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the hut, gnome and all.

"Why did you listen to him?" Fragmented explanations swirled inside my head – some twisted suicidal tendency? Did she owe an ogre some debt? Had she gone crazy with fear at the sound of his voice? Nothing made sense.

Ella was avoiding my questioning gaze, staring determinedly at the squirming child in her arms. "He's frightened."

Of course he was frightened. He had been seconds away from being eaten. "Why did you listen to him, Ella?"

She paused. "His eyes. Something about them. I had to do what he wanted."

Relief washed through me. She wasn't mad. It was only some new power of the ogre's. It struck me after a moment that this, too, was serious news. "Have they found a new way to bewitch us?"

It was bad enough that patrols had to go around with beeswax in their ears. Must they now be blindfolded as well? But no. I thought of Ella's encounter. She had stopped walking at my command. Had she turned toward me, at the sound of my voice? She must have. She must have broken eye contact, and so broken the ogre's hold on her. If our soldiers were forewarned, perhaps they could do the same. "I must tell my father," I murmured.

But Father was away. I was in charge now. It was a powerful feeling. I would see to it that our forces were warned against this new threat. I would see that the guard was tightened around the captive ogres, so that this could never happen again. I would keep Ella and my country safe.

Ella, meanwhile, was engaged in soothing the young gnome, speaking to him softly in Gnomic. He smiled innocently up at her, and her face cleared as he stopped struggling. We walked toward the rest of the menagerie with him between us.

"His parents must be worried," Ella said, frowning. I was certain she was right. This little fellow was more adventurous than most, or perhaps he didn't have a very good innate sense of direction – the gnomes, especially the young ones, rarely spent much time above ground. I knew the official entrance to their tunnels was about a league south of here, but apart from the aqueduct where we had found our gnome, I had little notion where the tunnels might lead. The gnomes kept their projects mostly secret even from their prince, except where they might interfere with topside construction.

Our only option, then, seemed to be to wander the area in search of any worried relatives. I was only too happy to continue our walk, though I felt a pang for the responsibilities I was shirking by being here. At least I now had some explanation for where I'd been – surely saving a maiden from harm and returning a frightened child to his parents made up for my tardiness.

I looked at the maiden in question and wondered again how exactly I'd saved her. It was a heady feeling – at the funeral, and even at times this morning, I had felt myself an imposition, but now I'd saved Ella's life, it felt as if she was tied to me in some way. I liked the idea of being the one to keep her safe.

But what had I really done? Only called out to her, told her to stop walking. She had shaken off the ogre's thrall by herself. For all I'd heard of Ella's clumsiness and stubbornness, she was strong. She didn't need to be saved. She didn't need me.

The little gnome, on the other hand, was someone I could help. I scanned the menagerie with renewed vigor, finally spotting the clump of worried gnomes near the pond, with one old female gnome looking particularly worried. The little one spotted her at the same moment and pulled us forward, calling out to her.

"!zhulpH," she cried – his name, presumably. She lost herself completely in the reunion, and I relished her joy. I saw in her my own mother every time I wandered too far away as a small child. One time in particular, I had taken it into my head that I was tired of the stuffy tutors, the clothes with too much starch and the other children who would never quite look me in the eye. I was not going to be a prince, I was going to run away and join the traveling players.

I was only nine years old, but I planned the whole thing very thoroughly. I packed up my most treasured possessions, leaving the rest for Cecilia. I told my nursemaid I wanted to attend that night's banquet with my parents, and told my parents I wasn't feeling well, then made a break for it, leaving a note on my pillow that read "I'll write when I can. Let Cici be queen. I love you. Goodbye."

I made it as far as the local inn. I had some idea of the players as men in funny costumes who would be standing about outside the inn just waiting for a little boy to join their ranks. I was sitting against the wall feeling lost when the innkeeper came out and recognized his young sovereign. He took me back on his horse, muttering all the time about foolish royal whippersnappers, and when I got back Mother wrapped me in her arms and cried for a long time. I never tried to run away again.

The relief in the old gnome's face was the same as my mother's, all those years ago, holding her little boy found. Eventually she looked up, recognizing me. "Highness, thank you for the return of my grandson."

I didn't know how to respond. People tended to assume I was responsible for anything good that happened, and I was always quick to set them straight, but for once I had had a hand in a true rescue. I had returned her grandson. But it seemed strange to claim the credit. I settled for, "We're glad to bring him back, madam. He was almost an ogre's lunch." I couldn't be too self-satisfied, after all. If I was responsible for zhulpH's return, I was also responsible for the guards who had failed to protect him in the first place.

"Char -- Prince Charmont -- saved him," Ella said. I thought I might burst with embarrassed pride.

"You have the gratitude of the gnomes." The gnome told us. "I am

zhatapH."

Ella introduced herself. I, of course, needed no introduction. zhatapH seemed to have regained her composure, though she still clung tightly to zhulpH. She eyed us curiously. "How did you persuade him to come with you? He would not go with most humans."

"Ella spoke to him," I explained. She spoke so naturally, I wouldn't be surprised if zhulpH had mistaken her for a fellow gnome. Though a good deal prettier than a gnome, of course. zhatapH prodded Ella into speaking again, and all the gnomes marveled at her skill. I stood by, all but forgotten, as first zhatapH and then zhulpH's mother thanked Ella, and zhulpH's mother told Ella's fortune.

I wasn't entirely sure I should be listening to this. Ella's future was her own, and I had no business listening in on it. But none of the gnomes seemed concerned with the intrusion – in fact, they seemed to have forgotten about me entirely. Besides, the gnomes' prophecies were notoriously vague. I had no idea who the "three figures" close to Ella might be, and she seemed equally bewildered. But I knew I didn't like the idea of Ella in danger, surrounded by people who wished her ill. I wanted to protect her like I had today.

I was quiet as we bid farewell to the gnomes, thinking about protecting Ella. Or at least, about seeing her again. I turned to her suddenly. "Tonight," I burst out, "I shall triple the guard around the ogres. And soon I shall catch a centaur and give it to you."

_Wasn't that sweet? And yes, Char realizes that he already cares quite a bit about Ella, he's not stupid, he's just not completely admitting it to himself yet. It's summer vacation now, and we're coming into some scenes I've been dying to flesh out, so I feel like I'm always saying this to you, but expect more updates soon. Up next: Char told you himself. Guards and a centaur._


	9. Security

The sun was almost directly overhead as I made my way back to the palace with a strong sense of foreboding. I could imagine the palace guards on full alert, searching for their missing monarch, Francis waiting at the palace door to snatch me into a meeting and then scold me like a venturesome child. I squared my shoulders and practiced my explanation – I refused to think of it as an excuse. I had gone for an early morning stroll, and been detained by an incident at the ogres' hut.

What I found was almost worse. The great hall was empty. No one stopped me as I made my way up to my rooms, aside from the usual bows from passing servants. No one seemed to have remarked my absence at all.

When I tracked down Francis, he made no allusion to my morning's absence. It seemed that upon ascertaining from my manservant and my sister that I was neither in danger nor in poor health, he and Mother had simply carried on the business of ruling the country without me. The responsibilities that had been plaguing me for days had passed seamlessly to others. I had never felt quite so useless.

Then I remembered. "Francis, this afternoon, could you call a meeting with the captain of the palace guard? I have a matter I'd like to discuss with him."

He nodded, his face as scrupulously blank as any courtier's. Was he surprised? Pleased I was taking some initiative? Annoyed at the extra task? It bothered me, sometimes, that even those who were supposedly my advisors so rarely questioned me or even showed what they thought of me.

No matter. This was important. If I wasn't really needed in the day-to-day business of ruling, well then, here was another way I could make Kyrria a better place.

**. . .**

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. Captain Fitzwilliam, how many guards are currently posted at the captive ogres' hut?"

The captain saluted smartly. "Three, your Highness. There are always three."

"And in your opinion, are three men sufficient to control an ogre should it attempt to attack a civilian?"

He looked concerned now. Even I was a little surprised at the edge in my voice. "I believe so, your Highness. The men always have beeswax in their ears to stave off the ogres' persuasive powers, and the ogres can do little else without leaving their hut."

"Perhaps. But the windows are quite large, are they not? Certainly large enough for an ogre to reach out and grab anyone who wanders too close, if the guards are inattentive."

Captain Fitzwilliam stood a little straighter, and when he spoke, his voice was cool. "I am perfectly willing to vouch for each and every one of my men, your Highness. They know what they're about. They don't let anyone get too close."

"Very well, then. How many ogres are held captive in that hut?"

"Counting the one that was just brought in last week, there are four."

"More ogres than guards, then. Is it not possible that the guards might be so busy taking care of one ogre that they miss a dangerous situation caused by another?" I didn't really see his face anymore, only an image before my eyes of Ella and a defenseless child, seconds from death. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "Furthermore, the perimeter around the hut encompasses only the land. Yet our ground and air are full of creatures who also need protection. Are your guards equally protective of them?" Again he tried to speak, but I wasn't quite done yet. "As you might have guessed, I'm not speaking purely of a hypothetical situation here. This morning, a maiden and a gnome child came very close to death because your guards first allowed the gnome to breach the perimeter, and then failed to note the situation in time. This is unacceptable."

The captain waited a moment to be sure I was through speaking. "I agree. What do you propose we do about it?"

I took a deep breath and let the anger seep out of me. This wasn't the captain's fault, and this wasn't the time to be vindictive. It was the time to make things better. "For a start, I want no less than nine guards posted from now on. One to keep an eye on each ogre, four to maintain the perimeter, and one to watch the aqueduct that lets out inside. That's where the gnome child came from, this morning."

"Your Highness, I don't think I can spare that many men. It's not that I disagree," he said hurriedly, "But we're already spread a bit thin, between the border patrols and those posted at the palace gates."

"Then I will handle recruitment. I respect the impulse to capture rather than kill ogres where possible. There is much we can learn from them. But that cannot, and will not, be at the expense of my subjects' safety."

"I understand. I can temporarily reassign two more guards to the ogres, and if you can in fact send me more recruits, I would be more than happy to make a permanent change to a guard of nine. Was there anything else?"

My mind was already whirling. At least six more men. Possibly more – Captain Fitzwilliam had said we were spread thin, after all. Perhaps I could send a small contingent of knights to talk to the peasants about the benefits of knighthood, but that did nothing in the short term, as they would still have to go through training. We did have a few knights errant who weren't affiliated with the military, but I could do little to pull them back to the crown, at least not right away. We couldn't afford mercenaries. That left only willing help from another country, probably Ayortha. It was fortunate timing; a contingent of ambassadors was arriving two days hence. I could begin negotiations then. I turned back to Captain Fitzwilliam.

"Yes, actually. I believe the ogres present a new threat. The maiden in question, this morning, was nearly enchanted into presenting herself to the ogre without a fight, though his tone was not persuasive. She said that the magic was in his eyes, and I believe she escaped only because she broke eye contact. This could have serious consequences for all our field troops. They should be warned as soon as possible."

The captain looked doubtful. "I've heard no such reports myself, your Highness. If the ogres have such a power, why have they not used it up until now?"

"Some new mutation, perhaps? Or maybe they've just never needed it until now. After all, the persuasion is almost always enough."

"And it wasn't this time? This maiden of yours, she had beeswax in her ears?"

"Well, no."

"And she resisted the persuasion nonetheless? Well, that is surprising news. How did she do it, if I might ask?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "She… she didn't resist the persuasion. He never tried. He enchanted her with his eyes straight away."

"Now, that is strange. Ogres have been using their persuasive powers on prey for time out of mind. It is their most powerful weapon. Even if they've developed some new power, why would this ogre not simply persuade her like any other?"

"I don't know. Does it matter? The point is that the power exists, somehow, and we need to react to that."

"I'm not so sure, begging your pardon, Highness. Is it not more likely that this maiden had never encountered an ogre before, and simply imagined herself under his spell. The power of suggestion, you know."

I remembered the anguish in Ella's face as she took that first slow step, the way she was shaking. Everything about her showed she was fighting not to move, and failing. "No. The ogre had some real power over her, I'd stake my life on it."

Captain Fitzwilliam shook his head. "You would know better than I. All the same, unless I get other reports of this… phenomenon, I'd like to speak to this maiden before I put more restrictions on my men. Who was she?"

"Her name is Ella, daughter of Sir Peter and the late Lady Eleanor." I thought of the centaur I'd promised her and half smiled. "I have some business with her, anyway. I can ask her to come up to the palace to speak with you."

"Very well. I have a bit of time the day after tomorrow, if she can come by the barracks. Although come to think of it, you should probably advise her to bring a friend or a brother. I trust my men, of course, but a military compound is no place for a woman to come alone."

"That's no problem. I'll accompany her myself." I would jump at any opportunity to spend a bit more time with Ella, and I certainly didn't want to miss the chance to solve the mystery of her behavior this morning.

The captain raised one eyebrow, but said nothing. I knew what he must be thinking, but I couldn't find the words to deny it. "Thank you, Captain. As soon as they're free, I'd like to have a little talk with the three guards who were present this morning, as well."

"Of course. Will that be all?"

"For now. Thank you for hearing me out. Until tomorrow, Captain."

"Until tomorrow." He saluted and bowed smartly before leaving the room. I smiled to myself as I watched him go. The meeting had gone well. I liked to think that even Father couldn't have done much better.

_I thought it was time we got a little taste of too-zealous-in-defense-of-those-I-love Char. He's so sweet all the time, it's interesting to write him taking charge. That will probably come back more later. Can I just say, if you wrote a review, even if I haven't responded to it yet, I really appreciate your feedback. You are what keeps me writing this story. And so, stick around for another update in the next day or two, re: how to train your centaur._


	10. Apple

I had meant to spend the next day on the centaurs' island, but the entire palace was abuzz with preparations for the Ayorthaian delegation, all of which seemed to require my approval, and I could find no opportunity to slip away. I'm sure I gave them all satisfactory answers to their questions, but my mind kept wandering, thinking about how to find the perfect centaur for Ella.

He should be young, certainly – the older ones tended to be harder to train and more reluctant to leave their home. This would mean that Ella wouldn't be able to ride him, at least not right away. I wondered suddenly if she'd ever learned to ride. Many young ladies of the city never did – they had little enough need to leave their elegant homes without a carriage, and the idea of riding for pleasure never occurred. Of course, Ella wasn't like other girls, I already knew that. If she didn't ride, I was sure she'd be willing to learn. Perhaps I could offer to teach her.

This idea presented enough pleasurable thoughts of times to come that I completely missed Francis's question – something about a change to the Ayorthaian nobles' itinerary to accommodate a tour of a palace. He had to repeat his question several times before I gathered my wits enough to respond.

The next morning, I rose early, hoping to spend at least a few hours choosing and getting to know a centaur colt before I went to present him to Ella and explain the necessity of the meeting with Captain Fitzwilliam. I hoped she didn't already have plans today. Yet another thing I should have thought of earlier.

The keeper of the menagerie seemed bemused at my request for a centaur, but he acceded readily enough, lowering a short bridge to allow me onto the island. Almost immediately I was swarmed by a flock of baby griffins, begging for treats. I smiled, petting them for a few minutes until they discovered I had no food aside from a bushel of apples and lost interest and flew off in the short hops that were all they could manage with their stubby, clipped wings.

The centaurs were shier, though I could feel them watching me from the shelter of the trees. I thought a moment, then placed my bushel in a nearby sylata bush – the centaurs disliked the sticky purple flowers, which tended to get caught in their manes, and probably wouldn't go in after my treats. I didn't want to lose all my bait at once.

Thus prepared, I held out an apple in each hand, giving a low, tuneless whistle. They approached then, cautiously. I counted three colts young enough for training, leading the group.

One was bolder than the rest, trotting ahead stop only a few feet from where I stood, her eyes fixed on the apple in my right hand. I spoke then, in a low, soothing voice, inching closer, the apple in my outstretched hand. "Yes, you're a pretty girl, aren't you? Would you like an apple? You'll have to come and get it." She eyed me a minute before closing the remaining distance between us and snatching the apple from my hand. Emboldened by her success, the other two colts, as well as several adults, came forward to surround me.

I threw the apple in my other hand, and they all took off after it, save for the one who was still crunching in front of me, and another colt, who stood at my side. I could have sworn he had a beseeching look in his eyes. "Hello, boy. Didn't want to join the race with the others?" He cocked his head at me, and I laughed. "Fair enough. Looks like today's your lucky day." I grabbed another apple from my hiding place, and he lost no time grabbing it, though he remained almost close enough to touch. Even as he ate, the juice dripping down his smooth chin, his eyes darted between me and the bush, hoping for more.

I considered the two centaurs before me. The others were still clumped a little way off around the single apple. These two were – what? Smarter? Braver? Friendlier? However it was, I found myself discounting the third colt to make my choice between these two. The mare had finished her apple now, and she snorted, seeming to consider whether it was worth approaching me again. Her hide was dappled, her mane a chestnut color that gleamed in the sunlight. She smiled at me vacantly, but still kept her distance. I was sure this reserve would vanish with familiarity, though, and there was an appealing gentleness to her movements.

The young stallion, on the other hand, had come forward to butt his head against my arm. I offered him another apple, and he grinned. He had the beginnings of speed, no doubt about that, his hide darker and richer than his sister's, apart from a small tan star on his chest. My glance wavered between them. "Would one of you like to meet my Ella? You'll like her. I'm sure she'll have lots of treats for you. What do you think?" The one on the left cocked his head again, and I fancied that there was a brightness to his eyes. It was an irrational reason to make such a decision, I knew – they had no more idea what I was saying than ability to respond. Nonetheless, he was my choice.

When next he approached for an apple, I held it just out of his reach and slipped a rope around his neck. Startled, he reared up, whinnying plaintively with that odd sound of a horse's noises reverberating in a human voice. The rest of the herd galloped over to his aid, but I wasn't overly worried. Centaurs were peaceable in nature, even during moments of stress. I layered my voice with as much calm as I could find. "Steady, boy. I'm not going to hurt you. We're going to go see Ella. Won't that be nice? Yes, that's right. Steady, now." I rested one hand on his mane, the other gently pulling on his rope, leading him toward the area where the bridge would be let down.

The real trick was leaving without leading the rest of the herd out with me. I had a feeling the keeper of the menagerie wouldn't be too pleased with that. Wrapping the rope firmly around one hand, I lifted the bushel out of the bush, spilling the rest of the apples out on the ground. The herd fell on them, including the one on the end of my rope, who seemed to have forgotten his trauma. I laughed. "Come on, you. You can take your apple with you if you like." He did, looking quite a bit happier as we made our way off the island. I paused. "In fact, maybe that's what we'll call you. Apple." Apple whinnied his agreement.

**. . .**

An hour with Apple in the royal pastures was enough to ascertain that was, indeed, quite fast, and I was sure that with training and a bit of time to mature, he would be a wonderful mount for Ella. The image was a captivating one, Ella astride the tall, dark stallion, her lovely hair streaming out behind her as she pelted along at top speed.

I wondered if she would object to my naming him. He seemed already to turn at the sound of his name, but perhaps, living in a menagerie, he had simply learned the name of his favorite treat. Either way, if she liked another name better, it certainly wasn't too late.

When the noon bell rang, I took Apple by the rope once more and we walked together in the direction of Sir Peter's manor. I had been there only once, for a party Lady Eleanor had thrown shortly after her marriage, but I remembered the way well enough. I wondered if Ella would be happy to see me. Would she be surprised? I had mentioned my plan of catching her a centaur when we had last parted, but perhaps she hadn't taken me at my word. She had surprised me enough, that day, that I wished to return the favor, though of course not if the surprise was unwelcome. What if she didn't want him? What if she thought such a gift, from a man she'd known less than a fortnight, and her prince to boot, was inappropriate? Was it inappropriate? I had never really considered the possibility.

I had begun to worry in earnest by the time the manor was visible over the crest of the hill. But I couldn't turn around now. I was sure that however Ella reacted to Apple, it would surprise me.

I placed one hand on Apple's mane and knocked at the door, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my tunic. After a few tense minutes, the housekeeper answered the door, her eyes going wide when she recognized me. She stared at me, twisting one braid, before seeming to recall herself and ducking into a very pretty curtsy. "Your Royal Highness. We're honored, I'm sure. What may I do for you?"

"I came to see Ella – the young Lady Eleanor. I brought her a gift. Is she at home?"

She just stood there a moment more, looking flustered, before looking up at me once more, not quite meeting my eyes. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment, Your Royal Highness… oh, I'm sorry, won't you come in to wait?"

I glanced over at Apple. "Thank you, but I'd rather wait here, if you don't mind."

The poor girl nodded and all but fled down the entryway, with many backward glances. It wasn't long before she came into view again, pulling a frizzy-haired old woman in an apron behind her. I could hear the woman complaining as they approached. "Bertha, what on earth do you mean, dragging me all over the house when I have dinner to be getting on? If my soufflé falls, I might have to tell Sir Peter your talents are better suited to Dame Olga's household, you see if I don't. He'd listen to me too, you know. Even he knows that…" at that moment, she caught sight of me in the doorway with Apple, and her voice trailed off. This, I guessed, was Mandy. I'd never met her, but I'd heard enough about her from Lydia that the apron and no-nonsense demeanor were a dead giveaway. "Your Highness. What can we do for you?"

"I was just telling your housekeeper here, I came to see Ella."

Her face shifted rapidly through several expressions, before settling into something like pity. "I'm very sorry, Your Highness, but Ella isn't here."

My heart sank. Of course, she had a life, she wasn't just sitting at home waiting for me to call. "Do you know when she might be back?"

"It will be some months, I expect."

"Months! Where has she gone?"

"Her father thought it best that she spend some time at finishing school."

"Finishing school!" I had very little idea what went on in such places, except that they were supposed to turn maidens into proper young ladies. The idea of meeting someone like Ella only to have her snatched away to become a proper young lady was almost unbearable. I spoke without thinking. "Why does she need to be finished? There's nothing wrong with her to start with!"

Mandy's face twisted into a wry grin. "Nevertheless, that's where she's gone."

"But… why? When did she leave?"

"Yesterday morning, Your Highness." Yesterday morning. Why had she not mentioned this when I'd seen her? Surely she must have already known she was leaving. Did I mean so little to her? I checked myself. Yes, of course I meant so little to her. What I liked most about her was that she didn't treat me differently because I was a prince. She would feel no compulsion to share her plans with a near-stranger. I felt ridiculous, standing here at her door claiming a relationship with her that I clearly didn't have.

Mandy, meanwhile, raised one bushy eyebrow at my companion. "Are you in the habit of taking livestock about with you for visits, Your Highness?"

I blushed, but I could think of no way but the truth to explain Apple's presence. Besides, I had caught him for Ella, and even if she cared little about me, she might like to have him when she got back. "This is Apple. He's a gift for Ella. When she gets back."

Both her eyebrows shot up at this news. "Well, that's very kind of you, I'm sure, but we have nowhere to put him. Our lands are too small for a growing centaur, and I have no idea what I would do with him in any case."

I blushed again, realizing I'd never considered this possibility, never considered anything really, apart from my delight in catching him for Ella. "Of course. Well, I'd be more than happy to raise him for her in the royal pastures. We have plenty of room for him to run and graze, and when Ella returns she can visit him there."

"Thank you, Your Highness. I'll let her know. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

"You write to her?"

There was an odd sort of hesitation then, though it seemed a simple enough question. But when she spoke, it was in the same no-nonsense tone, and I was sure I must have been imagining things. "Yes. You might find it strange, a noble young lady corresponding with the cook, but I was close to her mother, and I try to watch out for the lass."

"Yes, of course. I didn't mean to imply anything. I think you're acquainted with our cook, Lydia?"

"Ah yes, Lydia. She's a good sort of woman, though a little too liberal when it comes to sauces. Come to think of it, she's mentioned you a fair amount."

I wondered what she'd been saying. "Yes. Well. If you wouldn't mind, could you be sure to tell Ella the colt's name? It's Apple." If she wanted to rename him, I'd like to know soon, though I wasn't sure how I might come to know such a thing. If nothing else, this might remind her of our last meeting, I thought, remembering my absurd pleasure in my apples. That was always assuming that she hadn't already forgotten about me, what with learning to curtsy properly.

"I'll be sure to do that. Would he like an apple? Before he goes? Bertha, make yourself useful and fetch something from the kitchens. " The housekeeper, Bertha I presumed, started and ran off.

"Would you like to pet him? He likes it if you scratch him just there, at the small of his back." She did so, crooning to him gently.

"He is a beauty, isn't he? Ah, thank you, Bertha. There you are, Master Apple."

"Well. Thank you for passing the message along, and for the apple. We'd best be going, I think."

"I'm sure Ella will appreciate it." I could feel her appraising eyes on my back as I turned to walk away. "And Your Highness?"

I turned back. "Yes?"

"Don't worry. She'll be back soon enough."

_I went through another version of the centaur scene that absolutely didn't work, which at least partly accounts for the delay. Hopefully the extra long chapter makes up for things a bit. I love Mandy so much. I'm going to see if I can get away with sneaking in another conversation between the her and Char before this is all over. Also, this is where the time frame starts to get a little muddled. It's not entirely clear how long Ella was on the road, or how long Mandy's letter was in the book before Ella read it. This is all my best guess/what works best with the story I'm telling. I'll probably also end up fudging when exactly it is that he writes the letter to his father about military duty, because I have a lot more ideas for Char's military duty than about him hanging out ruling the country for months while Ella's at school. As always, I love my reviewers, and feedback is still strongly encouraged. Up next: the Ayorthaian delegation arrives._


	11. Return

_I'm sure you're all sick of excuses for late updates at this point, but I do have news: I was attacked by a particularly rabid plot bunny this week, and I'm currently working on an AU crossover fic between Ella Enchanted and Jane Austen's Persuasion. I'm going to finish a few more chapters before I start posting it, thus hopefully avoiding the issue of late updates, but if this sounds like something you'd be interested in, I encourage you to put me on author alert._

I was halfway back to the palace before I realized that Captain Fitzwilliam would be expecting a visit. Doubling back to the barracks, I mulled over Mandy's parting words. Ella would be back "soon enough." But how soon? I'd heard of girls staying at such schools for years, until their fathers found suitably rich husbands for their finished daughters. And when she did come back, would she still be Ella? So much of her charm lay in her originality, the way she would say what she was thinking instead of what was proper. Surely a finishing school would frown on such a tendency, even try to squash it out of her.

I tried to imagine Ella returning some months hence, engaged to some minor nobility or other, sweeping delicate curtsies and lowering her eyes in the presence of men. My mind balked at the thought. How, in so short a time, had I come to depend on Ella to be my break from the realities of court politics? I looked at Apple as I left him with a groom at the royal pastures. "Well, you'll always be here, won't you, boy? You and me, we'll take on the big bad court." Apple cocked his head at me with wide eyes before turning to the groom to search for treats.

**. . .**

Captain Fitzwilliam was seated at his desk with maps spread in front of him when I came in. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

The captain took a moment to look up, but when he did, his voice was cheerful enough. "No, no, come in. But where's this maiden of yours?'

The possessive struck me as odd, but I let it pass. "I'm afraid she won't be coming. She left for finishing school yesterday."

"Hm." He looked as if he wanted to ask why I hadn't told him this two days ago, but instead he only shrugged. "Well, without talking to her about exactly what happened, I'm reluctant to place more restrictions on my men. They're always careful around ogres, and if I hear any other odd reports you may believe I'll take them seriously. Now, I think you wanted to talk to the guards from that morning?"

"Yes, if I might."

"That would be Sir Bertram, Sir Henry and Sir Frances. The men of the regular palace guard take rotating shifts – Sir Bertram and Sir Henry should be in the main palace entryway, with Sir Frances patrolling just outside. If you don't keep them too long from their work, you can go and see them now.

I thanked him and took my leave. The men were where he said they would be, and acceded readily enough to my request for a brief audience. I knew all three by sight if not by name, and if I wasn't mistaken, Sir Frances had once rescued me after I fell out of an apple tree at the age of ten. Looking at them, I couldn't recall my earlier rage. I felt only tired. These were good men, who had been doing a thankless job to the best of their abilities. What could I say to them that they hadn't already heard from their captain?

"Gentlemen, I won't keep you long. I wanted to hear your account of the events of two days ago."

The men shifted uncomfortably, and looked to the one in the middle, Sir Henry, to speak. He looked to be in his thirties, with fair hair and a square jaw that lent him an air of purpose. "I take it your Highness is referring to the incident with the ogres?"

"Yes. What happened?"

He straightened his shoulders. "Well, we were performing our duties as usual when one of the ogres – the smallest one, I think he's called mEEnh, he was just brought in last week – started trying to force himself out the window. Those windows aren't supposed to be large enough, but we couldn't be sure, him being newly caught and all, so I called the other two to help me subdue him."

"Leaving the rest of the perimeter unguarded?" I couldn't help asking.

Sir Bertram bristled and stepped forward at this. He was a very small man, a full head shorter than me, with thinning brown hair and an unhappy expression. "With only the three of us, we have to respond together to any kind of crisis. Even then, we would be hard pressed to contain an escaped ogre. Begging your Highness' pardon."

I sighed. "Of course. I apologize. Then what happened?"

Sir Thomas quelled Sir Bertram with a look, and resumed his narrative. "Well, it became clear soon enough that he couldn't get out, and then he just started taunting us, which of course we couldn't hear through the beeswax. Once he'd retreated inside, we started to return to our positions, and that's when we saw you and your maiden on the other side of the hut. You saw what happened then – we got your ogre stabilized soon enough."

"We'd wanted to get your report then, but you disappeared," Sir Bertram put in, frowning at me.

"I needed to get the maiden in question to safety, not to mention the gnome she was rescuing," I explained, registering dimly that Sir Thomas, too, had referred to Ella as mine. What did these men think they knew? Then again, apparently the ogre was mine as well. "My report is simple enough, as I'm sure your captain has told you. The gnome emerged from an aqueduct well within the perimeter, the lass went after him, and both were nearly eaten when the ogre bewitched her with his eyes."

"His eyes?" queried Sir Frances doubtfully, speaking for the first time. "I've met the eyes of an ogre many a time. Ugly, but not dangerous."

"No," agreed Sir Thomas. "I'm sure we all met FiOrr's eyes just moments after you left. It's best to show 'em who's boss. If he could, he would certainly have bewitched us then. No, the power is all in the voice."

"FiOrr is the ogre we faced?" They nodded. "Then I don't understand," I said softly, mainly to myself. What they were saying made sense, and yet why would Ella lie to me?

Sir Bertram's voice broke into my thoughts. "If you ask me, your maiden simply lost her head. There's no place for a lady anywhere near ogres."

"I believe that's none of your concern," I told him coolly. "Your job is simply to protect everyone from the monsters you guard, a job you failed that day. I'm not saying that's entirely your fault," I hastened to add as they all made as if to protest. "Your captain might have told you that I'm making arrangements to increase your numbers. And I understand the inherent difficulty in perceiving a new threat, what with the necessity of the beeswax. But the fact remains, if we hadn't been nearby, that gnome would certainly have died. And if you'd been a few seconds later, there's a good chance that both Ella and the gnome would have been eaten." I had been trying not to dwell too long on this possibility. "Until I can provide you with reinforcements, I'd like you to leave one man standing watch at all times, no matter what the situation. Surely there is little that three men can do against an ogre that two cannot."

Sir Bertram glowered at me, but Sir Thomas was nodding slowly. "The captain told us much the same. Thank you, your Highness."

"No, thank you. Please understand, I appreciate the work you do for this kingdom." This seemed to mollify them a bit, though Sir Bertram still looked unconvinced. I let them return to their work shortly thereafter and returned to my rooms to change for dinner, where my manservant exclaimed at the horse hair all over my clothes.

**. . .**

The Ayorthaian delegation arrived the next day, with my family all dressed in our finery, arrayed on the palace steps to greet them. It made a pretty picture. Even my eight-year-old twin brothers had been rousted from the nursery to stand smartly at attention as Prince Emende led the procession to meet us.

Prince Emende was a year or two younger than me, but I still saw him as a comrade. He too must understand what it was to inherit the responsibility of an entire kingdom. Just looking at him, I could sense how aware he was of his rank. He walked with deliberation, his back straight, his bright blue eyes never wavering from our waiting family. He stopped at the foot of the stairs; it struck me just how awkward our current positioning was, as though we were staking claim to the high ground, forcing him to literally look up to us.

"His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Emende of Ayortha," announced the footman, and Emende gave a formal bow and paused one measured second before proceeding up the stairs to shake each of our hands in turn.

My brothers were young enough still to be awed by such proceedings, and stayed silent as they offered their hands, a rare occurrence in daily life.

Cecilia was impatient with such formalities, I knew. She had spent most of the morning being carefully groomed and coiffed, and to anyone else she must have looked almost intimidatingly lovely; only I could see the scowl in her eyes as she held out her hand for Emende to kiss and murmured a gentle "Welcome, your Highness."

When he came to me, I clasped his hand warmly, trying to convey welcome with my eyes. He gave a genuine smile, and I fancied we understood one another perfectly in that moment before he moved on to Mother, who as the monarch in residence would escort him into the castle.

It wasn't until late that night, after ten speeches of welcome and a fifteen-course dinner, that I got a chance to speak to him. I had offered to escort him to his rooms, and when we passed a door he asked if we might walk awhile in the night air.

It was a cool night, but clear, and for a few minutes we walked in silence, staring up at the stars. "Do we have the same constellations here that you have in Ayortha?" I asked him, honestly curious.

He didn't tear his eyes from the stars as he responded, his voice touched with the barest hint of an Ayorthaian accent – obviously he had been a better student of languages than I had. "The same, but they have moved in the sky. Over there, to the left? I think that is Ahana the warrior, but from the palace he's straight overhead." He finally turned to me. "But then, it is so often raining in Ayortha. I can rarely see the sky with such clarity."

He returned to his stargazing, and seemed perfectly content to let the conversation end there. After a moment, I tried again. "How long have you been away from home?"

"About three fortnights. When I have completed my duties as an emissary here, I continue home." Again silence fell.

"Do you miss it?" I'd never been away from the court for more than a day or two at a time.

He took a long breath in and out. "I will of course be happy to see my family again. But your hospitality tonight has been great, and I am sure I will have a pleasant time here."

I looked at him. "That's not exactly what I asked." He was no longer examining the stars, preferring to gaze around him, anywhere but into my searching eyes. "Emende. May I call you Emende?" He gave a startled nod. "You needn't bother with diplomacy around me. We're the same, you and I. And I don't know about you, but I could use someone to talk to."

He finally met my eyes. "Yes, I miss my home. I have been in this country a while now, with the delegation, and it's just so… much. So many words, all the time. Returning home, there will be… peace."

This wasn't quite what I had expected, but I scrambled to reassure him. "Well, yes, there is rather a lot of speechmaking that goes on, as I'm sure you found tonight. You should count yourself lucky there's a ball in a few days. That should be a bit of a break – no one can talk too much over the violins."

"A ball." He nodded slowly. "I have heard this word. It is – dancing, yes?"

"Yes. I take it you don't have them in Ayortha."

"No. I have had lessons in dancing. It was never very comfortable."

I smiled. "No, I don't believe it's supposed to be. But it can be enjoyable enough, with the right partner."

"Perhaps, but I do not think that I am the right partner."

"No? You're a prince, Emende, and a foreign one at that. There will be plenty of maidens dying to dance with you, who won't mind if you tread their toes black and blue so long as they can say they danced with a prince."

He smiled grimly, and I could tell he knew what I was talking about. Remembering what he'd said about too many words, I let silence fall once more as we made our way back to the palace door. When we arrived at his rooms he turned to me with a smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Echarmonte. It will be good to have a friend here."

I smiled back. "You're welcome. And please, call me Char."

"Echare?"

"Close enough." I was surprised that despite his excellent Kyrrian, he was unable to pronounce my name.

He opened his door and then turned back, his hand on the handle. "Good night, then, Echare."

"Good night, Emende. I'll see you in the morning."

Okay, many notes here, so bear with me. First of all, Char's brothers: they are canon, believe it or not, but GCL mentions them exactly once, and chances are that this is the only time they'll appear.

_Also, before you ask, no, I'm not going to connect this at all to Fairest. There are a few reasons for this that will become clear later on, but mainly, from a practicality standpoint: I'm writing an Ella Enchanted fic because I know the book so well. I read Fairest once, and liked it well enough, but the characters aren't a part of me like Ella and Char, and since Char will be spending quite a bit of time in Ayortha soon enough, I would need to know the world of Fairest really well to do it justice. So my Ayortha will be consistent with everything stated in Ella Enchanted, but not exactly like Aza's (And after all, Aza's courtiers didn't seem particularly silent, which is one of the only aspects Char really mentions). So yes, it's Prince Emende and not Ijori. For what it's worth, I think you'll like him._

_Lastly, as a warning, we are entering at least three very Ella-free chapters. Much as I'm tempted to just gloss over Ella's finishing school months, Ella's escape from finishing school is a chance for her to strike out on her own and see what she's made of, and Char deserves the same. Despair not – as Mandy pointed out, she'll be back soon enough. Coming up next: Some mail, and a ball._


	12. Ball

I awoke at dawn every day over the next few days, realizing that this was rapidly becoming a habit. These days, it seemed that as soon as the rest of the palace woke up, I had to be Prince Charmont, everything to everyone, overseeing trade discussions, negotiating with the Ayorthaians for supplementary troops in exchange for fishing rights of all things, ensuring that Emende and the minor nobility were comfortable and cared for. Only in these pre-dawn hours, in the company of Lydia or Apple, could I be simply Char, and I relished that time as much as possible.

Apple was a fast learner; I started him out carrying a weight of only ten pounds, as he was still young, but after the first day he was used to the extra weight. At the end of the second day I'd convinced him not to dump the weight when he cantered, and on the third day he successfully walked a course at my side without the benefit of a lead rope. I was confident that by the time Ella returned, if she still wanted him, he would be ready to carry her.

I could have entrusted his care to one of the grooms, of course; they had less experience with centaurs, but they had trained all the royal mounts faster and better than I could hope to achieve. But I was loath to give up my time with Apple. He was restful company; as I combed out his mane I would tell him which nobles were dragging their feet in the negotiations, what I hoped to accomplish in the day to come, the various stratagems I would have to employ, and he would just smile vacantly and let me talk.

When I got back to the palace on the day of the ball, I found Emende waiting for me at the door. "It is not even time for breakfast. Where have you been?"

I shot him an appraising look. Emende was nice enough, if a little quiet, and I desperately wanted us to be comrades, but my mornings were my own. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share them with anyone yet. Then again, I didn't have a convenient lie even if I wanted one. "I'm training a centaur colt from the royal menagerie. I caught him a few days ago, his name's Apple."

Emende's eyes lit up, and I was glad I'd confided in him. "My father always taught me to train my own horses. My horse here, her name is Amma, I had her nearly from birth. I have never trained a centaur. Is it very different?"

In three days of trade negotiations, I didn't think Emende had ever uttered this many words at once. His enthusiasm was contagious. Suddenly I was not only willing, but eager to share Apple with someone. "See for yourself. I've been going out to work with him every morning. You can come with me tomorrow, if you'd like."

He grinned widely. "I would like that very much." And we went inside together.

**. . .**

There have been many occasions in my life when I have given thanks that I was not born female. Almost all of them have been during events requiring formal dress. Negotiations were put on hold all day in order to allow everyone to make their preparations for the ball. For me this consisted of a brief toilette, after which I could lounge about my rooms in a dressing gown, not wishing to rumple my formal clothes by putting them on too early.

For Cecilia, judging by the shrieks coming from next door, it consisted of some manner of archaic torture ceremony. Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I poked my head through her door. "Is someone being murdered in here?"

It was near enough, as far as I could tell. Cecilia stood in the center of the room in her underthings, her ladies in waiting on either side of her with hands striped red from pulling her corset strings as tight as they would go. Those who had enough leisure to glance my way looked scandalized at a brother's audacity, bursting in on such a private moment. Cecilia, for her part, just looked severely annoyed.

Fortunately she had no breath to take it out on me. "There will be… if I find out… who invented… these blasted things," she gasped, gesturing at her corset. Her ladies-in-waiting guided her toward a mirror and helped her sit as they began to apply liberal amounts of face paint. "What do you want, Char?"

I leaned on the doorframe, grinning. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure I didn't have to avenge your death, is all."

She scowled, and her ladies-in-waiting clucked at her to smooth out the lines in her face. "If I drop dead from lack of air, you shan't have to avenge my death. I shall haunt you all most severely." She sighed lightly. "I really hate these things, you know?"

I considered. "I suppose so. They're no different from the banquets, are they? But instead of diplomats we have eager suitors."

"And that, dear brother, is how much you know. I would take ten banquets over one blasted ball. You just have your fawning maidens to contend with. I have all their mamas and sisters and cousins trying to win your favor through me, and that's in between waltzes with rich foreign men. All while wearing all this nonsense," she said, motioning vaguely up and down her body.

"And don't you look pretty," I told her, ducking to avoid the jar of lotion she aimed at my head. "Besides, tonight Emende's the only rich foreign man about. It won't be so bad."

"Not so bad? These Ayorthaian lummocks are all the same. They none of them have the first idea about dancing." For all her posturing, Cecilia was an expert dancer – she had to be, after years of practice – and I knew she enjoyed it, though dancing with such inexpert partners must be difficult.

"I don't think they've had much practice. There are no balls in Ayortha. Emende was telling me – they have something called 'sings.'"

"You mean you actually coaxed some conversation out of that lump?"

My jaw hardened. "Now look, Cici, that's not fair." She disliked her childhood nickname, and I only used it when she was behaving badly. "He's a bit out of his element here, but Emende's a good man."

"All I know is that he's spoken exactly three words to me since he got here, and already Mother's hinting around trying to find out if I fancy him. I know that I'll have to marry soon enough, but I'd rather it wasn't someone who thinks saying hello is an unnecessarily long speech."

I gave her another stern look. "It isn't Emende's fault that Mother's making assumptions. Cut him some slack tonight. He's nervous enough without you calling him a lump."

She rolled her eyes, though managing to keep her head perfectly still as her hair was dressed. "Fine. I'll play nice. Now go away."

**. . .**

Considering that the ball was in honor of visiting royalty, it was surprisingly sparsely attended. I supposed that the usual crowd of lesser nobles hoping to wheedle special privileges from Father didn't think it worth their time to attend for a mere prince. In a way, I was glad – I didn't have Father's manner of dispatching them quickly without conveying any insult.

I was also glad of the smaller crowd for Emende's sake – he seemed overwhelmed enough as it was. As soon as he was announced, a veritable horde of maidens had surrounded him, giggling, blushing, flirting, jockeying for the privilege of the first dance. As appeared to be his habit under stress, he went utterly silent, visibly hunched in on himself, answering the maidens' many inquiries about Ayortha with stiff nods.

Wanting to save him from an entire evening under attack, I turned to Cecilia, who was coolly holding court among a small group of older ladies. Drawing her aside, I murmured, "You know how you agreed to play nice tonight?" She gave a tiny smile of acknowledgment, and I nodded in the direction of Emende, who was now staring fixedly at a wall as a particularly bold young woman found excuse after excuse to gently touch his arm, his hand, his waist.

She sighed. "What of him?"

I raised my eyebrows, and she nodded, gliding over to ask him for a dance. I had done the same for a few of her friends in my time. With a bit of cunning, after this dance he would be able to extricate himself from the ladies and disappear for a while.

As the music began, I had to answer to a partner of my own, a tall blonde whose name I couldn't remember. I thought perhaps she was the daughter of a marquis; I had definitely danced with her at least once before. She was restful company; after the initial pleasantries she said little, and danced with enough proficiency that I was at leisure to look around.

Cecilia and Emende cut a striking figure, and I was probably the only one who could tell that she was leading. For all that Emende didn't find dancing "comfortable," he could follow a lead better than most women. I was surprised to see that he was speaking in her ear as she danced, and more than surprised when she threw her head back and laughed. The ladies who had surrounded him earlier, spread about the dance floor with their second-choice partners, threw her furtive, resentful looks.

What else happened at that ball? It was, for the most part, exactly like every other ball I'd ever attended. I danced until my feet hurt, nodding and smiling at whichever girl happened to be in my arms, and then made my excuses and leaned against a wall, doing my best to look princely and wishing to sit down.

As usual, this was the point in the evening when I was accosted by mamas, none of whom had anything to say to me, but all pushing forward a blushing maiden for my consideration. The first and pushiest among them introduced herself as Dame Olga. I'd heard her name once or twice, usually when people were commenting on her wealth, but I couldn't recall ever meeting her before, though she spoke as though we were old friends.

"Your Highness, I am simply desolate that I can't introduce you to my daughters. Charming girls, and I'm sure they would be perfectly ecstatic to make your acquaintance, but they are lately gone to finishing school." Her daughters, it seemed, were called Hattie and Olive, the loveliest girls in the world. It was difficult to attend to her; everything about her, from her syrupy voice to her obviously false tresses, was slightly cloying. What was more, her dress stretched the limits of propriety to the breaking point; the wine-colored fabric dipped low to show more than I wanted to see of her abundant bosoms, with a ruby pendant only drawing the eye farther downward.

She, meanwhile, enthused on. "…Such a lovely ball, though of course a few less people than one is accustomed to seeing. But I always preferred intimate gatherings. Gives everyone a chance to get to know each other better, don't you agree?" I nodded, privately thinking that I already knew this woman as well as I cared to.

"I'm glad to hear you're enjoying yourself. Please, help yourself to the refreshments in the next room. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Dame Olga excused me, and she was still excusing me as I made my escape.

I was, at this point, quite ready for the evening to be over. The orchestra was winding up as the last few, determined couples waltzed tiredly across the floor. Emende had managed to disappear after that first dance with Cecilia, and at the moment my sister was nowhere to be found either. Which left Mother and I to play out our roles as gracious host and hostess alone.

We stood, side by side, for nearly an hour more. Normally by this point I would have been excused, and I felt yet another surge of respect for Father, who even now would have been standing completely unruffled, his hand on Mother's waist, waiting it out.

When the last group of guests stumbled out, slightly tipsy and clearly exhausted, Mother turned to me with a slight smile. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I shook my head at her and went up to bed.

_Not my favorite chapter I've ever written, but we do get a bit more Cecilia time, which is always fun. And corsets really are basically torture devices. Bear with me, I promise we'll get some real action soon. Up next: the letter I couldn't fit into this chapter._


	13. Conversations

_If you normally don't, this would be a good time to read the end notes. Big stuff. But story first._

The next morning I rose a bit later than usual, still feeling groggy and out of sorts from the late night. But I didn't want to neglect Apple, even for a day, so I went to make my way down to the pasture, only to find Emende standing at the door to my rooms, looking horribly awkward.

"Echare. I hope I am not bothering you. You said I might come with you."

I blinked at him, recalling the conversation. I wasn't in the mood for company this morning, but I could think of no polite way to tell him that. "Of course. Come along, then."

I didn't speak as we walked down together, and I rather expected that we might pass the entire trip in silence, but Emende, inexplicably, seemed to want to talk. "The ball last night was lovely, yes?"

"I suppose," I said absently. "I was rather under the impression that you found it overwhelming."

"At first, yes. But I find I quite enjoy dancing."

I gave him one ironic glance. "Emende, you danced only one dance, with my sister, and then you disappeared. Where did you go, anyway?"

"Your sister showed me a place where I might watch without being found. And Echare, that one dance was… perfect."

I knew the place he was talking about. As children, before we were old enough to actually attend the balls, Cecilia and I had been convinced that a ball was the most wonderful, grown-up thing in the world. Eventually she had discovered a little antechamber off the ballroom where, if you stood near the screen, you could see all the dancers as they whirled by. It was our little secret, and when I attended my first ball I could feel her envious little eyes on me the whole night. I was honestly surprised she'd shared this with Emende. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"More than enjoyed myself. Echare, your sister is so graceful."

The tone of his voice was becoming worrisome. Cecilia was young, but there had already been a few young men ensnared by her easy smile and intense beauty, only to be brutally set down if she ever learned of their affection. Emende had the same look about him now. I didn't want to have to have that conversation. Fortunately, we'd just arrived at the pastures, which offered a distraction. "That she is. So, this is where Apple lives," I said, whistling for him softly.

Apple came trotting up from behind a tree, grinning, both hands outstretched. "You know me too well already, boy," I murmured, pulling a carrot from the pocket of my cloak. "Emende, meet Apple."

"He is a beauty," Emende said with appreciation.

For the next hour or so, I showed Emende what Apple could do, and Emende showed me a few tricks to get him to do what I wanted. By the time we headed back up to the castle, I was quite in charity with Emende.

As we walked, he kept sneaking what he apparently thought were furtive looks in my direction, and opened his mouth a few times only to close it again. Finally, as the palace came into view, he stopped short and began a halting question. "Echare, is your sister… is Cecilia… I mean, she is not… is she promised?"

"Promised?" I asked wearily.

"In marriage. To anyone. Is she?"

I took one careful breath in and out. I saw no way to avoid the conversation now. "Echare, I haven't known you very long, but I'd like to think that we're friends. Would you say that we're friends?"

He gave an uncertain smile. "Yes, Echare, I would very much like to call myself your friend."

"Good. As your friend, may I give you some advice?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then here it is: don't get too attached to my sister. I promise you, she'll only break your heart."

His brow furrowed, but he didn't back down. "I do not believe that is an answer to my question."

I sighed. "That's right, you asked if she was promised to anyone. Shall I answer as a diplomat, or as your friend?"

"As my friend, I should hope."

"Well, then. The answer is no, she's not. But in all likelihood, she will be soon enough, to the prince of whichever country offers the most political advantage. And Ayortha is not that country. Our countries are already so connected. My grandmother was Ayorthaian, and I believe your uncle is Kyrrian. Another marriage between our families would make little difference.

"Now, if Cecilia were to fall in love, it would be another story. My parents have always strongly believed in marrying for love, and they would almost certainly allow her her choice. But Cecilia… she'll flirt outrageously, when the mood strikes her, but she's never felt seriously about any man, as far as I know. She's still so young. I don't think it's ever occurred to her that men are more than playthings."

I looked him steadily in the eye, willing him to understand me. I wouldn't let him get hurt, not if I could prevent it.

He looked back at me stubbornly. "But she is not engaged."

I threw up my hands. "Is that really all you got from what I just said? After one dance, you're ready to propose? Emende, she doesn't like you. She danced with you last night because I asked her to. Please, think before you start making plans that will only end in heartbreak."

He recoiled as if I'd slapped him, and I instantly regretted my outburst. After a moment, he said in a small voice, "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I cannot know her affections after one night. But neither, I think, can you. I have always believed it is right to ask if a lady's heart is free before forming any attachment. I appreciate your warnings, but I wonder what kind of friend you are to me, if you are already so set against the idea of me one day joining your family."

He walked off toward the castle. I stood there alone for several minutes, wondering if I could just go back to my rooms and crawl back into bed.

**. . .**

When I returned to my rooms after another long day of negotiations, I found a letter waiting for me, addressed in Father's large, firm hand. Excitedly, I pulled apart the seal.

Dear Char,

I have arrived in a village on the outskirts of Rhina, known as Ralia. This is the first proper town we've stayed at, and so I am finally at leisure to write. How does your mother fare? I hope she is coping tolerably well with her loss. I am eager for news of you all.

I must confess, this letter is not merely a social correspondence with my son. I find that the border troops are in more of a shambles than I'd anticipated. Half the time, men simply do not show up for guard duty, and when they do they are often intoxicated or hung over. This is not something I can fix with a stern look and a royal command, but I scarcely have time for more – King Elroy is not a patient man, and I'd rather not let him know that my arrival was delayed because our troops at his border are weak. Even a man less shrewd than he might take it as an invitation.

And so, my son, I write to you. At your earliest convenience, can you ride out to the border to begin a full review? My visit in Rhina cannot take more than a month; I shall join you at the end of that time, but I would rest easier knowing the job was at least begun.

Pray, write back to tell me when you shall depart, and send the same news to Captain Richard at the border post. He will be awaiting word.

And now I may fairly ask you for details of the goings-on about the palace, in these past days. I find, as always when I am away, that I miss the familiar rituals of court life. You may see what I mean when you join me, but for now, you shall be my link to that life.

I await your reply.

Your affectionate father

I set down the letter and resisted a mad urge to jump about the room, or go to the door and shout to the entire palace that my father wished me to join him in the field. He had thought of me, he had said that he would rest easier knowing I was there. He trusted me with a military assignment, albeit a fairly routine one.

I sat down to reply to the letter then and there, but realized I had nothing yet to report; it was too late to meet with my advisors or the men I would be commanding, so I couldn't tell him when I would leave, or even that it would be possible. I couldn't risk giving offense to the Ayorthaian delegation if they felt strongly about my presence at the negotiations.

Instead, I settled on running to bang on Cecilia's door. "Cici! Cici, are you there?"

She flung open the door as I was still knocking "Char, so help me, if you're going to start calling me that again…" she started, then looked into my excited eyes and sighed. "Never mind. There's no reasoning with you when you're like this. I suppose Father sent for you?"

"He did!" I cried, refusing to let her lack of enthusiasm dampen my mood. "You're looking at a military man."

"Oh, that is excellent. I suppose now when I call you soldier, you have to stand at attention and salute?" She eyed me consideringly. "Fetch me my slippers, soldier."

Trying not to laugh, I saluted her smartly and handed her the slippers. "Sir, yes sir!"

She grinned and pulled them on. "Hm. Impressive, I suppose. More like a good dog than a soldier, though, I'd say."

I did burst out laughing at this. "You watch it, or next time I'll fling those slippers at your head."

"Well, then I'll have to report you for insubordination."

"What exactly makes you think you're my commanding officer? Maybe I'll report you for insubordination."

"Oh, no, you're off to be a lowly soldier, and I am your princess. Lady of the house. Well, aside from Mother, but she's old and married, she hardly counts. The soldiers in the field must fight for the privilege of one adoring glance from their lovely, eligible, unattainable princess."

"Oh, really? As your brother, don't I get an exemption from all that?" I quipped, but I could feel my good mood failing as her talk of flirtation brought back the events of the morning.

"You're right, I don't need your yearning looks, only your fealty. So when do you leave?"

"I'm not sure yet, I'll have to talk to Mother, and my advisors, and the soldiers who will accompany me, and probably Emende and his delegation as well."

"Wow, that's a lot of talking to do," she said, lowering herself into a chair to comb out her hair as we talked. "With luck, maybe you'll manage to set off by midwinter."

"Ha, ha. It will probably be a few days, unless Emende would like me to stay until the delegation goes." I paused. "Speaking of Emende… what exactly happened last night?"

She smiled lightly. "Well, you were right, he's a decent man. Not much of a dancer, of course, but he can keep up with me, which is saying something. We talked a bit about you, and about his horses, and then I showed him where he could hide. He was sweet, every time I danced by he would whisper something about the song. He knows a lot about music, you know?"

"So you liked him, then?"

"Sure, I liked him. What's not to like, when he actually gets around to talking a bit? Don't you want to know what we said about you? I'm shocked."

"I'm guessing that I'd rather not know. Cecilia, you didn't… encourage him, did you?"

She frowned. "Encourage him how?"

"I mean, did you encourage his… affections?" I asked hesitantly, half wishing I could melt into the floorboards.

Her eyes danced as she caught onto what I meant. "Aw, has Mendy been writing sonnets about my eyebrows like every other eligible male within a league of Frell? That's adorable!"

"Cici, it is not adorable. He's not just another one of your admirers, he's a crown prince."

"Yeah, of Ayortha. Not a serious contender, I thought."

"Last night, you didn't seem so sure that Mother agreed with that assessment."

"Yes, well, Mother's always after me about whether there's a man I fancy. But I told you last night, Emende might be sweet, but he's too quiet. Not my type."

"And does he know that?"

"How should I know? It's not as if I spent the night murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. We talked a little. If he got the wrong idea, it's because he wanted to."

"Okay. I think that's all I needed to hear. Just go easy on him, all right? He's a bit old-fashioned. If you're not interested, you need to make that clear to him."

She sighed dramatically. "Such a burden, to be so adored."

I snorted. "Yeah, right. Just wait until you fall for someone, then it'll be another story."

"My dear, innocent brother, you still think love makes a difference, don't you? I will have a royal wedding, and if I'm lucky he won't be quite as full of honor and virtue as you."

"So you don't even want to try to find someone on your own?"

"Char, why are you trying to be the wise older brother here? Have you ever been in love? If so, tell Mother. She'll be thrilled, start ordering the bouquets now." I just looked at her, caught off guard. "That's what I thought. You've never even been close. You talk about my admirers, what about yours? It's like they don't even have faces to you."

I wished I could say it wasn't true, but I couldn't. Thinking back to last night, I couldn't recall a single name, or even a distinguishing feature of any of the girls I'd danced with. They were all so much the same – fawning admiration or shy blushes, light hair or dark, good or bad dancers, they all eventually got around to the same conversations, the same words almost. There was no one _interesting_. Did that make me as bad as Cecilia?

"Okay, okay, truce. I just want you to be happy. Looking at Mother and Father, I can't help thinking love's the way to do it."

"Could be. Who knows? Anyway, congratulations on your ridiculously inevitable military appointment."

"Thanks. Night, Cici."

"Cecilia. How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a child anymore?"

"Fine, fine. Goodnight, Cecilia."

"Night." I started toward my own rooms. "Oh, and Char?"

I turned. "Yes?"

"If, through some twist of fate, I do fall in love with somebody…"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes?"

"It won't be another story. It'll be the same story. He'll love me right back. He'll have to."

"You seem remarkably confident of that, considering it's an entirely hypothetical situation."

"Well," she smiled coyly. "Why wouldn't he? What's not to love?"

I threw a pillow at her head as I left.

_Expositionnnnnnnnn, yes. Longest chapter so far? Maybe.  
_

_So, as a few of you astutely guessed, we're going to have some Emende/Cecilia angst. In most respects, I'm pleased with it, and I think it's quite literary for Char to have a foil, but there is one slightly unfortunate consequence. I currently have three chapters written for Compulsion, the Ella Enchanted/Persuasion crossover fic (Yeah, I'm cutesy like that.) I'm posting a teaser chapter right after this, in which I set up the premise. Now, this is basically an extended alternate ending that follows the plot of Persuasion, and thus it all takes place after everything that happens in the book, **including**__ the plot I'm creating here. Since the EC thing is my one chance to have actual suspense here, I'm reluctant to ruin for you guys. Thus... you get the first chapter to peruse at your leisure, and after a while, if I get antsy, I will post the second chapter, in which I manage not to mention any spoilers for Call me Char. But after that, you have to wait. I'm going to try to step up the update pace here, so I can hopefully finish this up by the end of the summer and start posting the next one. Somehow, I don't see many of you complaining about that part.  
_


	14. Explanations

DISCLAIMER: (You thought we were done with these, didn't you?) As a reminder, even though the last few chapters have been largely invented plot, the premise, the characters and the setting still belong to Gale Carson Levine. As does nearly all the text from Char's letter in this chapter, which I believe is my longest direct quote thus far.

Emende wasn't at my door the next morning when I woke to go see Apple, and I wondered how angry he really was with me. Hopefully after Cecilia had a chance to talk with him he would understand.

Apple came straight away to my whistle, grinning widely. Instead of a carrot I'd brought him a handful of oats, which I held as he lipped out of my hands. He was so like a horse most of the time, it was disconcerting to look up into his very human blue eyes.

"No training today, boy," I murmured into his mane. "I'm going away soon. You'll have to learn with the palace trainers for a while. But don't worry. I'll make sure they're nice to you." He nuzzled against my shoulder, and I smiled.

"Sometimes I think you're lucky, you know? Not so much human in you that you need to complicate everything. Horses are much more straightforward." I thought of my own mount, Starlight, a nimble little dappled mare. Presumably I would be seeing a good deal more of her soon. Leaving aside the fact that I hadn't spoken my thoughts aloud, I resumed my "conversation" with Apple.

"You needn't be jealous, though. She'll never replace you. And anyway, you're not really mine. You belong to someone called Ella. You'll like her, when you meet her." If he met her. I still didn't know when or under what circumstances Ella might be coming home. And now I might not even be in Frell when she did return. The idea disturbed me more than I wanted to admit.

Repenting of my silliness in explaining things to a centaur, I led him to one of the junior grooms, explaining what I wanted. He promised to look into it, and I promised to return the next morning to make sure Apple adjusted well to his new handler.

This was by far the easiest in nearly a fortnight of explanations. I spoke to my advisors about what they'd need to handle in my absence, everything from tax collection to the new season's formalwear. I spoke to the lesser diplomats, who were all too willing to grant me leave, but tried to use the occasion to wheedle a great number of concessions I'd been holding out on. I spoke to Mother, who smiled and assured me she could do perfectly well without me, though she did voice her concern at the danger of ogres. I assured her I could handle anything an ogre could throw at me.

I also spent some time down at the barracks with the men I was to command. Father had sent orders to Captain Fitzwilliam regarding my forthcoming departure, and assigned a squadron of six men-at-arms to my command. I was impressed with his knowledge of the palace guards' assignments; I had become exceedingly familiar with the numbers assigned to each station, in the course of my negotiations for extra soldiers, and I would have sworn that no guards could be spared, but somehow Father managed to rearrange them so that no station was left unprotected.

The first day I went down to meet my men, I had expected to make speeches, to explain that though I was their prince and commander, I was also young and green and I knew their respect would have to be earned. But as it turned out, there was little time for speechmaking. As Father had asked that we set out as soon as possible, Captain Fitzwilliam had instructed the men to be prepared to set out a fortnight hence, pending Emende's approval. There was barely time for a hurried introduction before they went back to gathering everything to leave.

Through all this time, I saw nothing of Emende, the one person I was most anxious to talk to. It wasn't unusual for him to be absent from the day's negotiations, but since he'd arrived a day hadn't passed when I hadn't met him in the palace corridors as we headed to our respective duties, with a nod and a smile. Until now. Even at mealtimes I would only catch a glimpse of him as he hurried out with his food.

After a sennight, having no word from him, I took to combing the castle and sending servants in search of him, only to be disappointed yet again. Finally, in desperation, I made my way up to his rooms after supper one night, needing to begin a reconciliation or at least obtain a formal grant of leave.

At first, there was no answer to my knock, and I began to be seriously worried that something had happened to him, or that he was even more scrupulous in avoiding me than I had realized. But as I turned to go, I heard a noise from within.

I knocked again. "Emende?" I called. "Emende, it's me, Char. Are you in there? I really need to talk to you."

There was no answer, but still I heard some movement inside. Tentatively I pushed open the door and took a few steps into the dimly lit room.

It took me a moment to locate the source of the noises I'd heard, and when I did I nearly backed right out again. Emende was sitting on the couch, arms locked around a girl with shining light-brown curls, an expression of rapture on his face as they kissed.

I blushed and averted my eyes, and I was almost out the door when it struck me that that hair looked familiar. I chanced another look and froze. "Cecilia?"

They immediately flew apart, Cecilia's hands landing on Emende's chest to push him away. She turned slowly, face flushed and lips swollen, looking more mortified than I'd ever seen her. In fact, I didn't think I'd ever seen Cecilia lose her composure before, not since she was a little girl throwing tantrums. They both stood, and her eyes swept across my arrested expression. "Char–"

"Cecilia. Whatever you're about to say, don't." The shock was slipping away now, leaving me angrier than I'd ever been, not since seven years ago when I'd ruined a man for making my sister cry. "Emende… you're no longer welcome in this palace. Please leave."

"Echare, I–"

"No. I warned you, do you remember? These past days – I was so cursedly concerned for your feelings, that you were avoiding me, that you'd taken offense. And you've – oh, God. All this time." My hands balled into fists, and I found that I'd moved forward, that I was standing less than a foot from Echare, all but shouting in his face.

He raised his hands against my fury. "No, no, you do not understand, we–"

I cut him off with a punch to the face. He fell back to the couch, looking more surprised than hurt – no wonder, said the part of my brain that was still capable of rational thought, I didn't exactly have any practice at punching people. "You dare–"

Cecilia cut me off with a shove backwards. She was surprisingly strong. "What the _hell_ do you think you're playing at, Char? He dares? You bet that he dares. I'm not eight years old anymore, I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and it's not your job to protect my honor."

I gaped at her. "Not my job? You're my sister, of course it's my job! And if you were old enough to make your own decisions this would never have happened. What were you thinking, Cici?"

"I wasn't thinking! I was just feeling, for once in my life!"

Emende cut in. "Echare, what you saw… I never meant to dishonor her that way. But I promise you, I will do right by her. We will be married."

Cecilia rounded on him. "And just what do you think you're talking about? You think that's a proposal? Making arrangements with my brother to cover up your little indiscretion? What exactly makes you think I want to marry you?"

Emende blanched. "Well, I…"

"Cici," I warned.

"No! Both of you, big strong males, you think you know what's best for me. Well, you know what? I'm sick of this! All of this! Duty and honor and standing around being a faithful little block of wood to be sold to the highest bidder! And I'm done. Emende, if you love duty so much, you can marry my brother. I'm going to bed."

She stormed out, and I warred with myself for a moment, wondering whether I should chase after her or stay here and deal with this upstart of a prince. Emende settled it for me. "Echare," he began in a carefully level tone.

I whirled. "Look, Emende, I'm really not interested in an explanation here. I'm sure it's something like 'you got carried away,' and then I'd have to hit you again. Stay away from my sister. Even if she comes to you. Because I can promise you, if you get carried away again, Ayortha will need a new heir." I turned to leave, then thought of something else. "I came here tonight to tell you that I'm leaving on military duty in a sennight. Have you any objection?" It wasn't really a question. He shook his head dumbly. "Good. I suggest you hurry your business along as well, because you won't be staying in the same palace as her when I'm gone." And with that, I went back to my rooms to stew.

**. . .**

I was still awake, though thankfully a bit calmer, when the knock came at my door around midnight. Cecilia didn't wait for a response before letting herself in. "I thought I'd wait until it was late enough that you couldn't shout at me without waking the whole palace."

My lips twisted in something like a smile. "I'm not going to shout, Cici."

She sighed. "No, of course not. You're just going to talk to me like I'm still a little girl."

"After tonight, do you really think you deserve anything else? No, don't interrupt me. Cici, you were in a man's rooms alone, after dark, for God knows how long. He's not your husband, or your fiancé, and as far as I can tell you have no intention of marrying him. Last I heard, you didn't even like him all that much. He also happens to be a crown prince, and you're a princess. Like it or not, that comes with some responsibilities. Do you know what would have happened if it had been someone else who came in, a maid or a messenger? Or what would have happened if I hadn't interrupted, if it had gone any farther? I'm angry at him because I'm your brother and I have to be, but I know nothing would have happened if you didn't want it to. I thought you knew better."

She was silent a moment. "Are you quite done?" I nodded. "Good. Contrary to what you might think, I didn't come here tonight for a lecture, and I don't really feel the need to explain myself to you. I just wanted to know… you don't mean to tell Mother, do you?"

"No. As far as I'm concerned, tonight never happened." My voice hardened. "And it won't happen again."

She shook her head. "No. One time deal. Tomorrow it's back to duty and honor."

"Fine. Anything else?"

"No," she said quietly. "Good night, Char." I said nothing, and she slipped out as quietly as she'd come.

I thought I should be tired – I'd spent a good part of the last few hours pacing, and I hadn't been up this late in quite a while – but I still felt too restless to lie down. Finally, I lit a few more candles and sat down to compose a letter to Father.

Dear Father,

I hope this finds you safe and well. My mother and my sister and brothers are in good health, as am I.

Tolerably well, at any rate. I certainly had no intention of revealing Cecilia's indiscretion to Father. I hurried on.

Since I received instructions to join you, I have been filled with gratitude for your confidence in me. The knights you have chosen to follow me are stout fellows and bear the command of a stripling with good humor. My mother worries, but I tell her they will not let harm befall me. In truth, Father, I am so stirred up by the thought of my first military duty – even if it is only reviewing border troops – that I hardly hear my good mother. Who knows? Perhaps the ogres will raid and there will be a skirmish. I do not fear injury, only that I may not acquit myself well.

The old excitement, temporarily banished by the events of the evening, returned in full force. I really was to go out and do something real for my country. I thought a moment, then answered his request for details of life at court with an update on the progress of the trade talks with Ayortha as well as a carefully vague account of the ball where this whole mess with Emende had begun. Searching for another topic, I thought of Apple.

I am training a centaur colt for a lass I know. Her mother was the late Lady Eleanor. I admire the daughter, Ella, but she has gone to finishing school, where I fear she will be made less admirable. What do they teach in such places? Sewing and curtsying? It is a great distance to go to learn such paltry tricks.

I thought again that I might not be here to know how finishing school changed her. But perhaps that was best. This way I might always think of her as I'd known her in those few short days – someone different, someone full of fire and life.

I have sent word to Captain Richard that he may expect me in a fortnight. By the time this letter reaches you, I may already be on my way. I hope that your visit with King Elroy runs smoothly, and I look forward to seeing you after a month, hopefully with the border troops well in hand.

Your loving son,

Char

Writing the letter now had been a good idea – I felt much calmer, almost sleepy. Whatever lunacy Cecilia was getting up to, I would be well out of it soon enough.

I blew out the candles and made my way to bed. My last thought before sleep claimed me was for Ella – the Ella in my memory, not Ella as she must be by now – laughingly conversing with a parrot, her eyes shining as she glanced up at me.

_Ah, drama. A heads up, for fans of Cecilia: I have a very clear idea of how the scene went, that ended in Char walking in on them, and I was a little disappointed when it became clear that there was no realistic way for her to get to tell her story. Then I realized – that's the advantage of publishing on an online forum. I can post whatever I want. So if you only want to know what Char knows, keep going with this story and all will be revealed in time. But if you want to know what happened, I have a one-shot going up sometime in the next 24 hours entitled "The Princess' Tale."_

_So, we're almost done with the non-Ella lull. I slipped her in here a bit for those of you who were saying you missed her, and there will probably be two more chapters before we meet her again._


	15. Soldier

The morning we left was grey and overcast, threatening rain at every moment. We prepared to depart just after dawn, so as to hopefully make it to the next town before nightfall.

My goodbyes were fairly brief; Cecilia had been a bit cool and quiet all week, and only mutely offered me her hand. My mother and brothers were quieter than usual too, given the early hour, and so after a few hugs and promises to write, we could be off.

I had bid Lydia farewell the night before, and my saddlebags were now packed with travel-friendly snacks. For Emende I needed no farewell, at least not yet. I was no longer exactly angry with him, but neither had I lifted my command that he should not stay in the palace when I was gone. Accordingly, he and his group of bewildered diplomats were departing with me and my men, and would ride with us as far as the first town, after which point we would continue west to Rhina and they would head north to Ayortha.

It felt strange, riding at the head of the little procession. The few times I had ridden with the soldiers, always within the city limits of Frell, I had always been behind the right shoulder of Father, or of whoever was leading the excursion. Now I set the pace, for all that I was the greenest soldier present. I felt proud, and exceedingly nervous I would lead us awry, and a bit guilty for my unearned rank, all at once.

When we made it down to the city streets, pride pushed all else aside. People had lined the streets in the dim light of dawn to cheer as the procession went by. I was finally where I wanted to be, not just an ornamental prince but the leader of a great conquering army. Never mind that it was just a little band heading off to scare some manners into the border troops, it was an army.

I was seized by the wild desire that Ella could be there to see me. It was strange – I had told myself that I hardly knew her, that I was unlikely to spend much time in her company again, and that I was better off forgetting about her, and yet she popped into my head at the oddest moments. Just now the feeling was so strong that for a moment I could swear I saw her face in the crowd, beaming that bright smile up at me and my regalia.

This, I think, was my undoing. In that moment when I was staring into the crowd, Starlight continued forward, coming within an inch of trampling on a bystander who had drawn too close. He jerked back and lost his balance, grabbing hold of the nearest thing to hand, a vegetable cart that teetered precariously for a moment before toppling to the ground, carrying the man with it.

It took a while for the crowd to stop cheering and realize what had happened. The man, thankfully, appeared to be unhurt, just a bit dazed in the midst of a vast pile of smashed and oozing tomatoes.

The owner of the cart, on the other hand, was positively livid. "My tomatoes!" he cried, "My prize tomatoes! What have you done, you great lummox? And the rest will be trampled underfoot by this rabble."

The man on the ground shrank into himself under the produce man's abuse, and I quickly dismounted and offered the man a hand up. "Are you all right?" I asked him quietly. The man stared at me for a moment with frightened eyes, then turned and ran in the other directions.

"Couldn't have been too badly hurt," I muttered, turning to the produce man. "My sincerest apologies, sir. How great is the damage?"

The produce man had the same look about his eyes as he bowed deeply and mumbled "Your Highness," but when I didn't seem about to arrest him or eat him, he returned to his rant. "Almost my entire tomato crop destroyed, Highness, and the rest soon to follow, the look of this crowd. And that idiot's run off, so's I can't even take him to court and demand a reckoning."

I was about to respond when the girl I'd seen burst from the ranks of the crowd. Up close, her features didn't resemble Ella's all that closely, and her hair was blonde rather than chestnut; though she was a beauty in her own right, I couldn't help a small rush of disappointment.

"Father, we have another cartful yet at home. All will be well. Stop bothering the prince." She made a face and muttered something under her breath, in which the words "never thought to say" were just audible.

"Drina, quit talking and start picking up vegetables, girl. Our crop's none so big that we can afford to lose these all." The girl obediently dropped to her knees, though I saw her poke her tongue out at her father's back.

"How much would it take to compensate for your loss?" I cut in, mentally counting up my store of discretionary funds.

"What?' He looked at me blankly, then scowled. "Oh no, I's never taken charity from nobody in my life, certainly not royal charity. You just get off on that horse of yours, I'll get by."

"I hardly think it would be charity, considering I caused the accident."

"You most certainly did not, I saw it, he just grabbed my cart and pulled it down with him. Get along, I say."

I sighed, keenly aware now of the eyes of all my men and a good bit of the crowd on me. Had no one seen my part in the accident? My eyes locked for a moment with the girl's – Drina, he'd called her – and I knew she had seen what had really happened. I set my jaw. "If you won't let me reimburse you, at least let me keep the rest of your vegetables from harm," I told him.

"What…"

"Right, men!" I called. "Dismount and help this man," I paused, "What is your name?"

"It's Adam, but…"

"Adam. Give Adam any assistance he requires in righting his cart." There was a dark justice in the fact that this was the first command I would give to my men. I was afraid for a moment that they would refuse, but they exchanged a long look, and then Sir John slid from his horse, followed shortly by the rest, with Emende and his ambassadors sitting awkwardly behind, glancing at each other as if wondering whether the order applied to them as well.

I supervised the righting of the cart as best I could, and then sank down next to Drina and set about picking up the vegetables, willfully ignoring the gasps and stares of the crowd at the sight of their crown prince on his knees in the street. I didn't look up to see if the men joined me – I would understand if they did not. But eventually, with an almost imperceptible groan, they all sank to their hands and knees to help me. At some point, while I still didn't look up, I found that Emende had joined the effort, though his men still sat stiffly on horseback.

It was nearly an hour before the man's vegetables were all saved, and it was entirely possible that I had completely lost the respect of my men before we had even left Frell. But when all was mended, Adam bowed low and Drina dropped a deep curtsy, and I knew I couldn't have done otherwise.

I was about to remount when it struck me why that curtsy had looked so familiar. "I – Drina." I called, and she turned, looking a bit curious and quite frightened to be addressed thus by her prince. "I saw you at the ball, about a fortnight past, did I not? We danced together."

She peered at me, her eyes unreadable. "Yes, Your Highness. My father wishes me to learn to act as a lady. I attend all the open balls."

"Well, then I suppose I shall see you again soon enough. Farewell, Drina."

She shook her head, smiling, but then dropped another curtsy. "Farewell, Your Highness."

I held up a hand. "We have grubbed about in the streets side by side after your father's vegetables, I think we may safely dispense with the formalities. Please, call me Char."

She said nothing, and I sighed inwardly as I remounted, resigned to one more person intimidated by royalty. But as I gave the command to ride on, I could have sworn I heard her say quietly, "Farewell, Char."

**. . .**

Whether it was because of the morning's delay, or because once it started raining we had to slow our horses as they slogged through the mud, we didn't make it to an inn that night. No one talked much as we made camp, but we were all wet, muddy and tired, and I could sense quite a few glares in my direction.

The rain had thankfully eased off into a drizzle in the early evening, so that under the trees we stayed mostly dry, but there was no dry wood for a fire, so we made do with cold trail rations. I thought about trying to address the men now, trying for some sort of apology or explanation or boost to morale, but I decided they were liable to throw things at me. I finally slipped away to see to my horse.

For all that her mane was plastered to her head with wet, Starlight whinnied and looked pleased to see me. "Yes, who's a pretty girl?" I murmured, beginning to rub her down. "Don't worry, there are no hard feelings for this morning. I should have been steering, shouldn't I?"

"You did a good thing this morning, Echare," Emende said, stepping from behind his own horse. I nearly told him that this was between me and Starlight, before I realized how patently ridiculous that would sound.

"Thank you," I said instead. I paused. "And thank you for helping with the vegetables. I'm sure that's not what your men expected of you."

He only nodded. For once Emende's characteristic silence had its upside. As we both went back to currying our mounts, there was a perfect understanding between us that would have been spoiled by words. If the conversation had continued, one of us must certainly have brought up Cecilia, but now it seemed enough to let the whole business fade into the past.

I was calmer when I headed back to the clearing where my men were to sleep, ready to give them an accounting for my actions. This plan was interrupted by Sir Bertram's call of "Where've you been, Highness, too high and mighty to eat with your men now?"

I had expected that if there was trouble it would come from Bertram – I remembered how confrontational he had been over the incident at the ogres' hut – but I was completely unprepared for this accusation. I had never sought to be higher than anyone, and it should have been obvious that I left to tend to my horse, a task which might otherwise have fallen to one of them. But it occurred to me that these men knew nothing of me – only that I was their prince, and I'd issued an odd command this morning.

My words were slow and deliberate. "Certainly not. I was with my horse. And as we are to be traveling together for some time, I would prefer that you call me Char."

There was a low murmur among the men, but Sir Bertram never hesitated. "Begging your pardon, Highness, but that wouldn't be proper. If you were just Char and not our prince, you would never be our commander in the first place, and you wouldn't have the right to send us mucking about in the streets."

Of course it would come back to that. "As to that, I am sorry to have occasioned the delay, but I was unwilling to leave the man to lose his day's custom and perhaps be unable to feed his daughter.

Another murmur circulated, and Sir John spoke up. "Aye, Sir Bert, he was fulfilling his duty to a subject, all unbidden. It's a bit of an _inconvenience_," and at this he glanced at me wryly, "But I think we'd all prefer to serve someone who cares about his people."

"We're his people," Sir Bertram insisted stubbornly. "That man was none of our affair, His Highness here was just feeling guilty that he can't manage his horse in a crowd well enough to avoid knocking things over."

My heart sank. I should have known this would be the explanation attributed to the accident if it was noticed, and the real explanation was quite a bit more embarrassing. "I admit, the accident was my fault. Which of course made it impossible for me to just walk away. And I don't appreciate… dragon!"

Sir Bertram drew himself up indignantly "Excuse me? There's no call for name-calling…"

"No, dragon!" I shouted, shoving him to the ground as the beast swooped down, its claws closing around the spot where Sir Bertram's head had been a moment before. Cursing, he rolled away from its searching grasp and ran at a crouch toward his pack. Someone shoved a bow into my hand, and I notched an arrow with fumbling fingers as the dragon circled for its next attack. My first shot flew long as it dived suddenly, its claws raking against a tree with a horrible grinding sound.

Arrows flew through the air thick and fast now as the rest of the men armed up. You'd think something the size of a large cottage would be easy to hit, but the dragon moved with impossible speed, letting out a screech of rage as it took in our numbers. A strange thrumming noise filled the air. "Back!" I shouted, recognizing the sound from the young dragon in the royal menagerie. We raced backwards as a jut of flame pursued us, setting the rain-soaked trees to smoking feebly. We sheltered briefly under an overhang of rock, but it was only a matter of time before the dragon's next attack.

Sir Bertram turned to the rest of the men. "If you can cover me long enough to get a shot off, I can bring this thing down."

He hadn't seemed to include me in his request for cover, but I was his commander and I took charge. "Okay. Stephen and Aubrey, make a run for the river. Try to attract the thing's attention, then get underwater as quickly as possible. Percival and Martin, take your bows and try to get to the Ayorthaians. If we run out of arrows, I'll signal you to start shooting. John, you and I will stay with Bertram. How close will you need to be?"

Sir Bertram looked me steadily in the eye for a long moment before replying. "As close as that tree over yonder."

I appraised the distance. "That's doable. We'll flank you on either side, but you'll still have to take it at a run. Everyone ready?" They all nodded silently. "Go!"

As I'd hoped, Stephen and Aubrey drew the dragon's attention as they took off, yelling a battle cry at the top of their lungs, but the flame it sent after them fizzled uselessly on the surface of the river as they dived in. Roaring its frustration, the dragon turned on the three of us where we stood under the tree Bertram had indicated, but then he loosed two shots in rapid succession, which pierced the dragon through each of its wings. I called wildly to Stephen and Audrey, who managed to climb out of the river just as the dragon plummeted in with an almighty splash.

"That should quench him," said Bertram with satisfaction. I stared at him, and he shrugged. "I don't suffer fools gladly, but I can take orders, and I'm a fair shot."

"That was more than a fair shot. Two critical hits with two arrows, and somehow you managed to land him in the water. Good work, soldier." As soon as this last was out of my mouth, I regretted it – a commendation from the stripling he'd just called a fool would mean little – but something flickered in his eyes.

"Thank you. And I was quite impressed by you as well. This was your first battle?" I nodded. "Well, you kept your head. Not many as can do that their first time." As we all began to trudge toward the dragon to see about transporting it back to the menagerie, he stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry I doubted you, lad. I think we'll get on just fine."

_So, I had originally planned a much longer progression of Char earning his soldiers' trust, but frankly, I'd rather spend that time and space on Ella. Hence, battle scene. I'm not as experienced with writing action, so I hope it came out okay. In other news, I'm thinking some of you can probably guess when Drina will come back. And apologies to TheAravis if you're reading this - I realized after I wrote this that Drina rhymes with Nina. I promise the similarities will pretty much end there. Up next: the last chapter in our Ella drought._


	16. Continuing on

_Hey, guess what? I'm back! And I'm not dead! I'm so sorry to leave you all hanging so long, it was some combination of having no ideas for this chapter and realizing that I really don't have all that much free time now that school has started. Thanks for sticking with me, and for all your not-so-subtle reminders to update. To attempt to make up for things a bit, I'm posting two chapters today._

The rest of the journey faded into a blur. Arranging transport for the dragon back to the royal menagerie, saying goodbye to the Ayorthaian party, days on end of hard riding… none of this left too much time for thought.

I quickly got to know what I could and couldn't ask of the different men. Sir Bertram was a fantastic shot, and did most of our hunting. After that first night he was almost friendly, but he had a deep pessimistic streak, and anything, real or perceived, that went wrong was my fault.

Sir John, it seemed, was the unofficial leader of the group. He didn't speak much, but when he did, he struck just the right tone of casual command, and people listened. Even Sir Bertram calmed down when Sir John told him to. He also had the very useful knack of healing minor injuries without fuss.

If Sir John spoke but little, Sir Stephan more than made up for the lack. All through the day, when the rest of us had gone grim and silent with saddle sores, he chattered on, mostly about his hounds and occasionally his family, never seeming to notice the motion of his horse. I could never figure out whether his stoicism, his supreme willingness to complete any task without ever halting the flow of his words to complain, was intentional or whether he was just that oblivious to everything around him.

Sir Martin and Sir Percival, as it turned out, were twin brothers, though they looked nothing alike. They were polite and efficient, but they worked much slower when forced to perform tasks separately, and they talked mainly with each other.

And Sir Aubrey… Sir Aubrey was grounded. That was the only word I could think of to describe him. He took Sir Stephan's incessant chatter and Sir Bertram's pessimism and the twins' antisocial tendencies all in stride, and simply went about his work. He complained when there was something to complain about, but without any real malice, and he was always ready with a story or a joke to lighten the mood at the end of a long day. He made the group feel more like a family.

He was the one who finally brought up the "vegetable incident," as he laughingly called it, as we relaxed around the campfire on a considerably warmer and drier evening four nights into the trip. "I thought all the idiots standing around gawping would wet themselves when they saw their precious prince down in the streets picking up vegetables. You watch, it'll be legend by the time we get back. The great tomato rescuer."

"Oh, there are a great number of those legends of me circulating," I told him. "I'll never understand it – if anyone else had helped him, it would have been considered common courtesy."

"And so it is, lad, so it is, only people have got used to the idea that common courtesy is just for common folk," Sir Stephen cut in. "But that merchant will thank you, I'm sure. He'll need the money. I've a daughter the age of that Drina myself, and I'll wager she empties his purse quite regularly with needing new frocks and face paint and hair combs. Why, I don't mind telling you, when my Lillith was fifteen, she…"

"But anything he might spend on the girl, it's well worth it," Sir Aubrey interrupted with a grin. "She's a pretty thing, all right. I don't know about you lads, but I'll wager she was part of the reason our dear prince here was so willing to debase himself."

I flushed red. It hadn't even occurred to me that they might make this assumption. The men all laughed at my expression, and Sir Martin turned from his quiet conversation with Sir Percival to interject. "How's about it, lad? Something about Drina that brings you to your knees?"

I searched desperately for a way to answer such an inquiry, and was saved by Sir John, who had been studying me intently. "I think perhaps our Char's immune to the charms of such a one as Drina." He paused, giving me a chance to contradict him. When I didn't, he asked quietly, "So what's her name, then?"

I blinked at him. "Whose?"

He chuckled softly. "Son, in my experience, no blue-blooded male fails to take notice of a comely lass like that Drina unless he's someone better in his mind. So, what's her name?"

All unbidden, an image rose in my head, of shining green eyes and a saucy smile. I hoped my face wasn't as hot as it felt, or there was some danger of bursting into flames. "I've no sweetheart, if that's what you're asking," I said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Sir Aubrey took up the inquisition then. "No, I don't believe that's quite what he asked. Come now, it's obvious there's someone you're thinking of. Who is she?"

I took one slow breath in and out. "Well, there is a lass I met recently. She's called Ella. But she's only a friend, really. Perhaps not even that."

Sir John considered. "Ella. Not the daughter of Sir Peter of Frell? I've dealt with him, a bit. Sharp enough to cut himself, that one."

Sir Stephen nodded his agreement. "I've dealt with him too. Bought a little castle as an anniversary gift for my wife. Lovely little thing, elfish work, an Agulen he said. Funny thing, too, he specifically asked me to instruct my wife to place it in a window. Something about the lights shining out into the night. Couldn't suss out what he was driving at, there. But I had it appraised, two different appraisers, and they both agreed, certainly not an Agulen. Which means I quite overpaid. But he only said let the buyer beware, and I hadn't a leg to stand on. Ah, well. Pretty little thing anyway, and the missus loves it. I've never seen the daughter. Not too like her father, I hope?"

"Certainly not," I said indignantly. "Ella would never lie." Though I paused a moment, remembering her odd behavior at the ogres' enclosure, her explanation that made no sense. No. She was so quick to say what she was thinking, I couldn't believe she would lie to me. "She's more like her mother, I think. Were you much acquainted with the Lady Eleanor? Ella has the same spirit about her."

Sir Bertram eyed me speculatively. "This would be the one who was with you that day with the ogres? I didn't get much of a look at her, being as we were _doing our job" –_ his small smile belied the grave emphasis he put on these words, though I knew my earlier condemnation was still a sore spot – "but she seemed pretty enough."

"Oh, she's beautiful, certainly, but there's more to her than that. She's not just some court beauty who knows how to smile and curtsy. She's… light, and fun, and different. She speaks all the exotic tongues like she was born to them. Heard a greeting in Gnomic from a parrot once and managed to repeat it well enough to convince a gnome toddler to trust us. I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't trust her."

"Sounds like more than a friend to me, wouldn't you say, Percy?" said Sir Martin with a grin.

"Indeed," said Sir Percival, "I had a friend like that once, and now she's my wife."

"It's… that's not…" I spluttered. "It doesn't even matter. I'm here, and she's at finishing school, and that's the end of it."

"Perhaps, at the ripe age of seventeen, that feels like the end of it," Sir John corrected mildly. "But there are a few advantages to being the heir to a kingdom. I'd wager this lass hasn't forgotten about you."

I shook my head, unconvinced, and the rest of them started to talk about their wives and sweethearts, left behind in Frell.

**. . .**

We arrived at the border a few days later. That first day, with a whole camp full of men watching me sullenly as I announced the inspection, I stammered and stared at my feet and nearly dropped my shield because my hands were shaking. But my men were lined up smartly at attention as I spoke, and at my word they turned sharply to move among the ranks. I knew then that I would be fine.

When Father arrived a month hence, it was not to a camp buzzing with order and activity as I might have hoped, but it had been a full sennight since a soldier had missed a patrol. I followed him around, half a pace behind him as he performed his inspection, feeling a bit like a too-eager puppy but wanting to know what he thought. His face betrayed no emotion when he finally turned to me.

"Well, everything seems to be in tolerable order."

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. "Yes, sir. You'll want to speak to the men yourself, of course, but I believe they are coming to better understand the gravity of their duties."

"And your personal squad? How do you find them?"

"They've been invaluable. Without them I don't think anyone here would have ever listened to me."

He ran his fingers along his chin as he always did when he was thinking. "In that case, I believe you are free to go."

My eyes snapped up. "Sir?"

"I said you're free to go, soldier. Take your men and return to Frell."

I'm not sure what I'd expected to happen when he arrived, but certainly not this, this abrupt dismissal as if I'd been only a stand-in until the real royalty arrived. Though perhaps that was exactly what I'd been. "Father, have I… have I done something wrong?"

He sighed. "No, no. You've done well here, Char. Better than I had any reason to expect. And it is valuable for you to learn this sort of thing, but you're a young, handsome, unmarried man. You're more valuable to me in the middle of all the fripperies at court. And we don't both need to be here."

"Father, I've come to know the guards here. They respect me. I think in another month or so I could have them in top form. If you think we're not both needed, perhaps you should return." The words were out of my mouth before I realized I'd never before questioned his orders. Thankfully, he only looked amused.

"I appreciate your analysis of the situation, and as the officer in charge here I should perhaps defer to your judgment, but I stand by what I've already said. You're of an age to be making certain decisions about your life, and they won't be made out here. Am I making myself clear?"

He met my eyes squarely for a few moments, and I was the first to look away. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, why don't you show your father where he can lay hands on some supper?"

**. . .**

Things went quickly after that. I passed the order on to my men that night, and despite some grumbling, especially on Sir Bertram's part, they were ready to move out the next morning. I had few goodbyes to make among the guards – I might have won their respect, but it would have been unreasonable to expect their friendship.

They all turned out for my departure, and Father made a speech praising me for my duty and releasing me. I might still be a bit unhappy with him for sending me off, but it still meant something to hear him talking of me as he would any successful commanding officer. It was something I'd always admired about him, the way he managed at every moment to seem kingly and in control.

Afterwards he drew me aside. "I am sorry to be saying goodbye again so soon, son. Carry my regards to your mother. And Cecilia and the twins."

"I will. Farewell, Father," I said stiffly.

He sighed lightly. "I know military duty seems exciting to you now, but it has a time and place like anything else, I hope you see that." He paused, and then added in a more formal voice, "If you meet with any trouble on your return send a report to me or Captain Fitzwilliam. We can send backup if need be."

Part of me knew he would say this to anyone making the journey through a forest full of ogres and dragons and roving groups of bandits, but I still couldn't help but see it as him coddling me. "I'm sure we'll be fine, but thank you for the offer."

He peered at me for a moment but offered no comment. "Safe journey, Char."

"And to you," I said, and we parted.


	17. Surprise

_As a treat for my infinitely patient readers, I'm posting two chapters today. Make sure you read "Continuing on" first._

We were only a few leagues out of Ralia when we came across the first signs of an ogre encampment. As always, they hadn't been particularly careful about covering their tracks. Why should they be? They had nothing to fear from being followed, not when a few words could turn any pursuer into a willing meal.

There weren't any obvious piles of bones near the abandoned fire pit; I would have liked to take this as good news, but if they hadn't fed recently it only meant they would be hungrier and meaner.

"Looks like they're headed toward Jenn," said Sir John, peering intently at the trail of broken branches as though that would make the ogres appear for battle.

He was right, and that was interesting. Ogres tended to avoid major population centers - there were always at least a few knights ready to protect the innocent townspeople. They preferred to pick off travelers, as significantly easier meals. Still, a large enough group of them could be trouble. I struggled to recall who was stationed in Jenn. "We should follow. Sir Randolph could use warning if they've growing bold enough to attack, and probably reinforcements as well."

Sir Bertram frowned. "So we're to track a group of ogres of unknown size, with no guarantee we can overpower them if and when we catch up? Begging your pardon, lad, but that's asking to be eaten."

"Not if we take precautions. From this point in, we keep beeswax in our ears at all times. If we need to take it out to talk, make sure there's at least one knight standing guard. Never stray from the group alone, not even to use the latrine. And always carry a weapon."

Sir Bertram opened his mouth to argue again, but Sir John beat him to it. "Lad, I have to agree with Sir Bertram here. There aren't enough of us to take on a large band of ogres, and we can't even be sure they'll continue toward Jenn."

"So instead they'll just take out the next traveling coach? I won't let that happen. If they come to Jenn, we'll offer what help we can. If not, we'll stop to send a letter back to the border post for reinforcements." I thought ruefully of my proud declaration a few days ago that I wouldn't need such assistance.

Sir Stephan chimed in then. "I admire your bravery, lad, and I don't mind telling you, I've had a few run-ins with ogres in my time. Why, this once there was one that came up on me and my partner on guard duty just outside the elves' forest, I thought for sure we were done for, but I guess he didn't see us there in the shadows of the trees and we managed to get the jump on him, took him down in a hard fight, you should have seen it, just kept pummeling him until I could hold him down long enough that Sir Henry could get the ropes around him. But that was two of us on one ogre, and it was still a close thing. With only seven of us, and we could easily be outnumbered, and you've no guarantee reinforcements would arrive in time, I'm not sure we should be doing this, although as you say I'm loath to leave them to do more killing, and I do trust your judgment, it's just…"

"Yes, thank you, Sir Stephan. I realize the dangers here. And I won't order any of you to come with me. If need be, I'll follow them on my own and pick up a team when I reach Jenn. But I can't just leave them out there to kill."

"Lad, you know we won't let you go after them on your own," Sir Aubrey said softly. He stepped forward to stand beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. One by one, the men all did the same, until only Sir Bertram stood stubbornly apart.

"Sir Bertram. I meant what I said. I'd rather you not continue on your own when there are ogres about, but if you'd like to stay in Jenn when we get there I won't stop you."

He just stared at me. "You're mad, all of you. And we'll all be eaten by the end of the sennight. But yeah, I'll keep on with you till we get to Jenn. Don't have much choice, do I?"

"Thank you. And I'm sorry to put you in this position. So, if we're done discussing…" I glanced around. No one spoke for a moment, and then Sir Stephan opened his mouth and I hurried on. "Right, then. Beeswax in, everyone."

**. . .**

It was strange, after so many nights spent with Sir Stephan's continual chatter and the casual banter of the others, to ride in the cone of silence imposed by the beeswax. Worse, I hadn't realized how much I relied on being able to hear any attacker. If the ogres came up behind us, it wouldn't matter that we cut off their powers of persuasion, because they could simply snatch us from our horses before we realized they were there.

This scenario replayed itself over and over in my head, league after silent league, and it made me incredibly jumpy. At the end of first day, when Sir John rode up beside me and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder to indicate we should make camp, I nearly fell from my horse as I twisted to grab my sword. Around me, I felt rather than heard the men's silent laughter.

For the most part, though, everyone was on edge, not inclined to laughter. We worked out a rough system of hand gestures to communicate which way to go, when to stop, who was to scout or hunt or dig the latrines at day's end. The signal for danger was a broad windmill gesture with one arm. No one had used that one yet, though I craned my neck often to check each man for signs he'd spotted something.

On the second day, we found another camp. This time, there was a large pile of bones next to the dead fire. I slid from my horse, feeling sick. There was a short moment of relief when I forced myself to look closer and saw they were only the bones of a pony or a small horse, but then I glanced back at Moonlight. There were no wild horses in the forest. If the ogres had found a pony, its rider wouldn't be far behind. I held up the horse's skull and watched as each man's face went through the same evolution from relief, to realization, to horror.

The path of destruction out of the camp veered north, away from Jenn and deeper into the forest. Maybe they were chasing the missing rider, maybe they were taking him back to their Fens as a snack, but if they was even a chance the rider was still alive, I knew what I had to do. With one meaningful glance back at Sir Bertram, I remounted and resumed following the trail. When I looked back, Sir Bertram was still following, his face grimmer than I'd ever seen it.

At dusk, when Sir John tentatively touched my arm, I shook my head. The camp had looked fairly fresh, but ogres moved fast, and there was no way of knowing how long of a head start they had on us. If we wanted to have any chance of catching up before it was too late, we needed to keep moving. Sir John held my eyes for a long moment, then nodded slightly and returned to his place in the line of riders, holding up his arm in the gesture for "straight ahead."

We rode all night, in silence and darkness, slowing as the horses began to stumble. In my head I ran through a simple prayer, over and over to whoever might be listening: Please, let us make it in time.

**. . .**

It was only a few hours after dawn when Sir Aubrey, who had been scouting ahead, came galloping back, waving his arm in the sign for danger. There was no doubt in anyone's mind what he'd found. I turned Moonlight so I was facing the men, and looking at them each in turn, I dismounted, moving to tie Moonlight to a nearby tree. Understanding, they slid from their horses all around me. If we had any hope of taking on the ogres on our own, we needed the element of surprise.

I rose my eyebrows at Sir Aubrey in silent question, and he raised eight fingers. Everyone froze. Eight. We were outnumbered and outmatched. Even with stealth on our side, this was almost certainly a suicide mission.

My mind was racing. The nearest town was at least two days' ride away. There was no way we could fetch reinforcements and be back in time to find them again, let alone save their intended meal. Could we catch them while they were sleeping? But Father had decreed that ogres were not to be killed unless in self-defense, only captured and transported to the royal menagerie, and we certainly couldn't bind them without waking them. What's more, they probably wouldn't sleep again until dusk, and there was no guarantee they wouldn't eat their captive in the meantime. Our only option was to try to distract the ogres long enough to get the captive away.

With this vague plan in mind, and knowing I couldn't communicate it to the men with only hand gestures, I gestured to them to follow me to a small, sheltered copse, where I gingerly pulled the wax from my ears. They stared at me, but followed suit. "Sir Aubrey, report," I whispered.

"Eight of them, like I said. They're still at their camp, just past that stand of trees there, asleep. It's… it's bizarre. The captive's alive, a maiden. It looked like they were getting ready to eat her, but she… it looked like she was talking to them, and then they all just lay down and went back to sleep."

It was strange, after spending so long in silence, to hear him speak – it sounded unnaturally loud, though he spoke at the barest whisper. Stranger still was his news. But there was no time to wonder at it. "She's alive, you said?" Funny – in picturing the faceless rider, I had always imagined a man, a drifter of some sort, or maybe an elf. I'd never heard of a maiden traveling alone on horseback. Unless perhaps she'd been separated from her party. But again, no time to wonder. "How securely is she tied up – do you think we can free her without waking the ogres?"

"That's the other strange thing. She'd not tied up at all. But when they were falling asleep she made no move to run."

I hadn't been prepared for this possibility. The ogres' persuasion would have worn off as soon as they fell asleep. I had never heard of a human working with ogres, but if she really hadn't tried to escape… but surely if they'd eaten her pony, she wouldn't be on their side. Unless this wasn't the lone rider, but someone else, some sort of pet. Or the ogres had yet again shown that they had special abilities beyond persuasion, something that could keep a lass at their side even while they slept, something that could compel her forward with only a look into their eyes… it was time to get to the bottom of this.

"Right, men. Ropes out, swords ready. If we're quiet, we can begin to get them tied up while they're still asleep. They outnumber us, so if anyone successfully neutralizes an ogre before he wakes up, look for the last one. I know this is a lot to ask, but it could be important, the ogres have been showing signs of strange abilities lately. If not all of us make it, those who remain should send a scout to the nearest village for aid. Godspeed to you all."

They didn't like it, but they nodded grimly without argument. We all slipped the beeswax back into our ears and quickly but quietly made our way through the trees to the clearing where, as Sir Aubrey had described, eight ogres lay in a snoring heap. A dark-haired maiden stood watching them sleep. She didn't move, either to join them or to escape, and once again I puzzled as to the meaning of her behavior. Then, too, that hair was oddly familiar…

In that moment, while my attention was concentrated on her hair and not on my movements, I felt something snap under my foot. I froze, cursing to myself silently, but the pile of ogres didn't stir. The maiden, on the other hand, whirled around, and I realized why she looked familiar. It was Ella.

_Don't hate me, yes it's kind of a cliffhanger, but you do all know how the story goes. I have to take my cliffhangers where I can find them. And I promise you won't have to wait a month for the next installment this time – I will be better, I swear._


	18. Her

_DISCLAIMER: Lots of directly quoted dialogue here, so don't sue me. And if you've read the book so many times that the repetition gets boring, I guess you can skip ahead, there were just a few moments I wanted to highlight._

Ella. Of course it was Ella. If anything strange was happening with ogres, Ella had to be involved. It couldn't have been more than a second that I was frozen, staring at her, but it felt like several lifetimes. I had told myself, over and over, that I shouldn't expect to see her again, and now here she was in the most unlikely of circumstances. In danger. And that was what snapped me out of it. No one was going to hurt Ella.

Trying not to look at her lest she distract me again, I snapped her a salute as though she were a fellow soldier, and strode over to the largest ogre, quickly tightening my ropes around his ankles.

As I had expected, he awoke quickly and reached down to loosen the ropes. But I remembered the lesson Father had drilled into me from an early age: "Ogres are dangerous, no doubt about it. But they rely on their persuasion. It's all they need, most of the time. You get that beeswax in your ears soon enough, and it'll take him awhile to figure out why you're not doing what he wants."

I assumed the ogre was trying his persuasion on me right now, though I didn't look up to make sure. I pushed his hands aside and tightened the ropes again, though I wasn't sure how I would bind his hands now that he was awake. I was dimly aware of the other men fighting similar battles with half-awake ogres all around me. Before I could even tie off the rope my ogre thrashed his feet violently and I lost my grip. This wasn't good. I drew my sword – I was armed and the ogre was not, which should at least buy me some time, but he would soon overwhelm me with his sheer size.

Remembering what Sir Aubrey had said about Ella talking the ogres to sleep, I turned to her. "Can you tame them again, Ella? If not, run and save yourself." No matter what, she would survive this. I promised myself that much.

Ella, though, didn't even hesitate. She straightened, and though I couldn't hear her speak, all the ogres suddenly stopped fighting and stared at her as though she were their mother, or an angel sent to deliver some divine message. Then, one by one, they sat down and held out their arms and legs, offering themselves up to be bound. The men all stared at me helplessly, but I gestured for them to begin the binding, not sure how long the strange spell would last. But soon enough they were all tightly bound and still showing no signs of struggle, only smiling peacefully at Ella.

What was she? Some kind of fairy? An enchantress? I turned toward her, hearing the blood rushing in my ears, and bowed deeply. "Ella. How did you tame the ogres?"

Her mouth moved, and I was momentarily at a loss for why no sound was coming out. "I can't hear you. Oh, I forgot." Feeling foolish, I removed the wax from my ears, and for the second time that day was surprised by how loud the world was.

Comprehension dawned across her face. "That's why the ogres' magic had no effect on you." Did that mean it had an effect on her? In the confusion of battle I hadn't noticed. I wondered exactly what he'd said.

"Once we sight ogres, we always put the wax in," I explained. I was surprised she'd never heard of this precaution before. It was basic safety for anyone traveling through dangerous areas. "The danger is being caught unawares." Well, one of the dangers. We could hardly have been caught unawares since we'd been tracking these ogres for days, but at least some of us would still have died if it weren't for Ella. I briefly explained what Sir Aubrey had seen. "How did you do it?"

"I told them about finishing school, and they began to snore."

"Truly?" My sleepless night was catching up with me now that the adrenaline was fading, and I was prepared to believe anything at this point. It was a better explanation than anything I'd come up with. Then I shook my head slightly to clear it, and laughed. It felt good to laugh. It felt good just to talk with someone after so much silence, and just as before I felt completely comfortable around Ella. "How did you really do it?"

"I spoke to them in Ogrese, and I imitated their oily way of talking. I didn't know if I would succeed. They had already parceled me up. I knew which one was going to eat every bit of me. SEEf - that one - wanted my leg." I moved my own leg involuntarily. It was hard to hear about such things without wanting to go over and strangle the helpless ogre where he lay.

That was not a good idea. Keep talking. "How did they come upon you?"

She gave a brief account of running away from finishing school, sheltering with the elves, being captured while she slept. She shuddered when she mentioned the fate of the pony – it was amazing how she could joke about her own fate, but was so disturbed by what happened to her mount. I flashed back to the moment when we discovered the bones, and set out to rescue someone who turned out to be the girl I – the girl in front of me. She was so full of contradictions. I searched for which question to ask first. "Was finishing school so wearisome you had to run away?"

"Very wearisome, and see what it's done to me. I can no longer break a set of dishes by accident. Now I can balance all of them on my head and stroll through Frell without dropping a single one. I have many accomplishments."

She sounded genuinely pleased with herself, and I remembered thinking that finishing school would turn Ella into a proper court lady. Perhaps I hadn't been so far off the mark. A very strange proper court lady, but still… "Are you proud of them?"

She nodded, and my heart sank. "Would you like to know more?" I shrugged, which I suppose she took as a yes. I had had this conversation with several young ladies, returned from school eager to show off their accomplishments. It broke my heart to see Ella reduced to such banality. She launched into a demonstration of how to eat properly which could have come from my own etiquette tutor, using a rock as her seat and holding an imaginary napkin.

"Very ladylike," I told her. And it was. She would make some lord a very proper wife, at this rate. Assuming she didn't wander off again and get eaten by a dragon.

"I shake the napkin twice. That's important."

"Why?" I could do this. I could have this conversation. There was no reason why this conversation should hurt any more than one with a maiden seated beside me at a banquet with a false smile and an obvious aim of impressing me with her dainty manners.

But then she grinned evilly and replied, "Mice." And suddenly this was all a game, and I was all too willing to play along.

"There are no mice in our court napkins," I informed her. "You are thinking of spiders."

"The prince contradicts a lady!" she said in an overly astonished voice. Of course it was a game. I loved how easily she could laugh at the traditions everyone else seemed to take so seriously. She continued the charade, making a sawing motion just above her "table," and I saw my opening.

"Your meat is tough. You have a low regard for our cooks."

"Not at all. It should be tough. Don't you know why?"

I probably did. I had been through all these lessons at a far younger age than she had, and had learned it all much more thoroughly than she possibly could have in a few months at school. But I was quite sure I would rather hear it from her. "Tell me."

"It is mutton. Am I not using a mutton fork? Our Manners Mistress will believe you're an impostor if you don't recognize a mutton fork when..."

"When I don't see one." I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in days. Months, in fact. The last time I felt this good was the last time I was with Ella.

She was still completely in character. "It could only be a mutton fork!" she cried with mock indignation.

"How so?"

"See how my fingers are bunched together at the top of the stem." And then she grabbed my hand, and the rest of her words were lost as the warmth of her touch shot through me. Her hands were small, and soft, and perfect, and even though she seemed to be directing me to hold her finger, still there was something right about her hand in mine. As she turned my hand over for god-knows-what purpose, her fingers grazed against my palm, and I was surprised by a sting of pain. We both noticed the welts at the same moment. "The rope burned you!" she exclaimed, dropping all pretense of the proper court lady. There was genuine worry in her eyes, and this both delighted and embarrassed me. I didn't want her to think I was weak enough to be bothered by such a slight injury, especially since I really hadn't noticed it until just now. "It's nothing. One of the knights is a healer. What else did your Manners Mistress teach you?"

She launched into an account of every mistress at her school, and I reveled in her easy disdain for the silly protocols they all wanted her to follow. "It _is_ helpful to know the proper way to behave, so one can decide whether or not to be proper," she concluded. I was suddenly jolted into an awareness that even if she didn't want to be proper, there were certain protocols I had to follow. Case in point: for the last five minutes or so my men had been standing awkwardly to one side, unsure whether they should be listening to our conversation.

"I should have introduced you long ago to my knights. Friends – John, Aubrey, Bertram, Percival, Martin, Stephan – meet our ogre tamer. She's the lass I told you about, the one who speaks Gnomic." The one you all think is more than a friend. I prayed they had the decency not to tease me until she had gone. Ella dropped a perfectly respectable curtsy, which they acknowledged easily.

"We wondered when you would remember your manners," Stephan said, sounding amused rather than reproving.

Never mind my men, I had forgotten all about the ogres, who were clearly the more pressing issue. I went over to where the big one – SEEf, Ella had called him – was still lying bound, with Ella one pace behind me. I wasn't sure exactly what Ella had told him, or how imitating his speech even worked, but I felt like I should say something to break the spell now rather than wait for it to wear off on its own. "So much as you are our friends, so much are we your friends. But we won't kill you unless you force us to."

Of course, they tried to escape their bonds then, but it was too late. I was confident in my men's skill with knots. I waited for their struggles to die down, unsure what my next move should be. Ella, though, beat me to it, rattling off some speech in Ogrese. Once again, it was strange to hear the harsh sounds coming from her mouth. But from her tone I gathered that she was telling them off. And then she turned and smiled at me, and it was like she lit up the whole forest. She was so beautiful.

I realized what I was thinking and blushed, quickly turning to where the men were setting up lunch and reveling in the ease of conversation after days of silence. The mood was jovial as we began to eat, and I told Ella a bit about my time at the border camp, leaving out the part where Father had unceremoniously sent me packing. If nothing else, this incident with the ogres would make him take me seriously as a soldier.

As if reading my mind, Sir Stephan chimed in. "The king will be glad to see this lot. Eight ogres and no injury to us." It had certainly been a close thing. I wasn't even sure I could claim any credit – the win was all Ella's.

"He'll be interested to learn that humans can use their magic against them. At least Ella can." I nodded at her, not quite meeting her eyes lest my thoughts take me in directions I didn't want to explore just now.

"Whenever he finds out. How will we convey them to King Jerrold?" It was a valid point, but I couldn't help being a little annoyed with Sir Bertram for bringing it up. We'd escaped death today – transportation would work itself out.

"No need for your melancholy, Sir Bert," Sir John said, echoing my own sentiment. "With this maid's help, we just caught eight ogres. Six knights never did that before."

"We'll think of something," I said with finality. In fact, that part of the plan remained largely unchanged. We would leave a few men here to guard the bound ogres while the rest rode back to the border post for assistance. Or, if the persuasion trick worked for more than just Ella, we could persuade them to come with us unforced. Or Ella could come with us and persuade them herself. I knew there was no place for a lady among a group of soldiers, but she'd never said where she planned to go after leaving finishing school, and she'd be safer with us than roaming the road. And a part of me really liked the idea of her staying.

"They'll have to be fed." Sir Bertram said, stubbornly looking for a difficulty.

"And you're the best hunter we have, Sir Bert," I said, knowing that would mollify him a bit. Lord only knows why. He knew it was true without me having to say it.

Everyone jumped in then with suggestions for how to feed and transport the ogres, until Sir Stephan suggested they defer to my judgment. "He knows."

I was rather touched at the show of confidence. I did my best to sound leaderly. "You, Stephan, will escort the Lady Ella to her destination, wherever that is. Martin and Percival will ride to my father for assistance. Sir Bert, Aubrey, John, and I shall take turns hunting and guarding the ogres. We'll put the wax back in our ears when we are within earshot of them in case their gags slip." I wasn't too enthusiastic about this part of the plan, but I had survived three days of silence – I could survive a little longer.

Everyone more or less agreed to their parts in the plan, and though I didn't envy Ella the trip with Sir Stephan yammering in her ear, he was the most likely to stick with her no matter what.

"He'll be a better companion than ogres," I mused aloud. "But, Ella, why didn't you go back to Frell when you left finishing school?" This had been bothering me since she told me she was traveling alone. It wasn't safe, and she wasn't even going in the right direction. I also wanted to know why she hadn't run from the ogres after putting them to sleep, but there was no tactful way to ask.

"My father is trading at a giant's farm, where a wedding will take place soon. He wrote that giants' weddings are interesting. I thought I'd join him there."

Such an innocuous answer, and yet something about it didn't ring quite true. "You put yourself in such danger in order to see a wedding?" She hadn't seemed particularly close to her father, from the little I'd seen of them, and she didn't seem the type to be so enthused about the ceremony itself.

"It's fortunate that all the maidens in Kyrria do not decide to travel by themselves," Sir Bertram groused. "We have work enough without having to rescue them."

This hardly seemed fair. If anything, she'd rescued us. And I didn't like him talking about her as if she were only another bubble-headed maiden. "If all the maids in Kyrria could tame ogres, we would have much less to do," I told him. He had no response for that.

Ella agreed to let Sir Stephan accompany her to the giant's farm, and suddenly lunch seemed to go by much too fast. Before I knew it I was lifting her to the horse behind him, trying not to notice how I thrilled to her touch, trying not to envy Sir Stephan as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She seemed comfortable enough in the saddle, I noted. She would do well with Apple when she returned home. And then suddenly she stiffened and began to dismount. "I don't like to leave you in danger," she said.

Was it possible she was as reluctant to leave me as I was for her to leave? I remembered Sir John's words by the fire that night. "I'd wager this lass hasn't forgotten about you." But no, she was only concerned for my safety, which was perfectly unnecessary. "Go with Sir Stephan. We won't come to harm."

She relaxed visibly and settled back into the saddle, confirming my suspicions that she just didn't want me to be eaten. Sir Stephan looked ready to kick the horse into motion, and in desperation I caught at the bridle. "Will you soon be in Frell again?" Please. Come home. Meet Apple. Be with me.

"If Father doesn't send me back to finishing school, and if he doesn't want me to travel with him." That didn't sound too promising, but it was something, I supposed. It must be tiresome to be so completely reliant on the wishes of a father she didn't respect. She looked down at me curiously. "Why do you ask?"

I had no answer that wouldn't frighten her. All I knew was that something in me was crying out for her not to go. Instead, I answered the question she hadn't asked. "I should be back shortly. These maneuvers never last long." I neglected to mention that it was my first maneuver, or that it wasn't even an official maneuver, just a detour on the way home.

She promised to see me soon, and I gave the appropriate responses to her farewells, but most of me was simply memorizing her face, the shape of her eyes, the freckle just below the side of her mouth. I thought she was lost to me once. Now I knew she wasn't, and it terrified me how much I cared.

_I like this chapter in the real book so much. I almost left in the thing about goodbye being evil, but I don't want to completely reiterate the book. Char's going to have a few adventures before he sees Ella again, but it's not going to be nearly as long of an interlude. I'm keeping up my resolution of updating on a regular basis – for real this time – so in return, please, keep the reviews coming._


	19. Magic

_I officially have more than 200 reviews! Thank you so much for all your interest, without which I probably would have given up by now. And aliceamb, I sincerely hope you haven't been holding your breath for the last week. Check the end notes for my plan on what's happening with this story during the next month. Big stuff, guys, big stuff._

After Sir Stephan's horse, along with the girl on its back, disappeared into the woods, things started happening quickly. Martin and Percival, as I'd known they would, gathered their things and were gone almost before we'd realized they were going. They would probably even be relieved to have a few days traveling by themselves, without the rest of the group slowing them down.

Sir Bertram, with a minimal amount of grumbling now that he had a task, left to hunt down some dinner for us and the ogres. That left Aubrey, John and I to find a way to find a way to move the ogres into a spot with a bit more cover. Eight ogres could perhaps afford to make a target of themselves by camping in the middle of an exposed clearing, but four soldiers and eight helpless charges practically cried out for attack, either by rescuing ogres, bandits or wild animals.

Aubrey peered at the ogres, somehow managing to look fierce even trussed up like turkeys as they were, and then at me. "D'you suppose the magic might work for us as well? I don't fancy having to drag them about if we don't have to."

"It's worth a shot," I said dubiously. Maybe Ella's words were magic, but it was harder to imagine it working for me. "Although, I know very little Ogrese. Perhaps it works in Kyrrian as well?" I hoped so. All I could remember right now was the phrase Ella had taught me back at the menagerie, "ahthOOn SSyng," and I didn't think any amount of persuasion could render "much eating" useful for our purposes.

Aubrey and John both shrugged and waited for me to make the first attempt. I stepped forward, feeling horribly self-conscious. "Right. So, all you ogres. You… all have a strong desire to sit up." They simply stared at me. What had Ella said? She imitated their oily way of talking. Oily. I could do this. "Friends. Ogres. Please, sit up." I could hear the beginnings of muffled laughter through the gags. It was impossible to tell whether it was the language or the "oiliness" that was the problem.

I drew back, pulling Aubrey and John with me. "We've several days, before the others arrive. I think it's best to try to master the persuasion now, if we can, and the best thing is to experiment. Have either of you ever actually been under an ogre's spell?"

Aubrey just shook his head, but John spoke up hesitantly. "I was just a lad, but I came close to offering myself to an ogre once. A soldier stepped in to save me. It's part of the reason I became a soldier myself."

My respect for Sir John only increased. Few lived to tell of an encounter with a rogue ogre as a child, even with outside help. "Do you think you can remember the exact timber of his voice?"

He shuddered. "I remember his voice, all right. It's not something you forget. But I'm not sure I can reproduce it."

"Try, please."

Straightening his shoulders, he stepped forward. "My dear friends. Why do you just lie there? You must sit up, look at the world around you." There was something in his voice, I could feel it, but the ogres were unimpressed.

"John, I have an idea. Try it on me. Tell me to do something."

"Highness, I'm not sure that's such a good idea…"

"I trust you, John. Just try it."

"I… fine. Highness, please take one step forward."

I sighed. "Come, John, you can do better than that. Speak as you did to the ogres. I promise, I won't hold you insubordinate."

Aubrey looked on with interest and some amusement as John spent a minute or two preparing himself. "All right." His face was impassive, but his voice took on a certain smoothness. "Highness, that spot where you stand is not safe. At any moment you may be hit be the branch of a tree. Come closer to me, where you will be safe."

What could I have been thinking, standing where I was? John was so wise, to see the danger. I stepped toward him, smiling trustfully.

His face grew uneasy, and I frowned, wondering what I had done to make my brilliant soldier unhappy. "Lad?" he asked in a more normal tone of voice. And the world snapped back to normal.

The implications of humans using this power on one another were catching up with me now, but I tried not to show any sign of worry. "I'd say that was a success. Try it on the ogres again?"

But no matter how John phrased his request or shaped his voice, the ogres didn't seem to be affected. Finally, I gestured him back. "Looks like it has to be Ogrese after all. Stands to reason, I suppose. I don't suppose anyone has a language dictionary?" Of course it would be languages, and one my idiot tutor had barely even deigned to teach me. I would be almost no help here.

Sir Bertram chose this moment to return to camp, leading his horse and lugging the body of a hart, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "Still where I left you all, I see. No luck moving them?"

"They're snobs, is what they are," complained Sir Aubrey. "The lad's talked to them, and I've talked to them, and Sir John's talked to them until their ears near enough fell off, but they won't listen unless it's their own language."

Sir Bertram smirked. "And none of you speak Ogrese?"

"There's never been much call for it until now," I remarked drily. "Ogres aren't exactly known for their conversational skills."

"Well, then," said Sir Bertram, suddenly looking even more smug, "What is it you were looking to say to them?"

We all looked up sharply at that. "You speak Ogrese?" Sir John asked.

"Certainly. I've been guarding fresh-caught ogres for years now, and before the young ones learn the persuasion they jabber on in that infernal language of theirs like nobody's business."

I stared at him, but recovered quickly. "Wonderful. Then perhaps you can tell Sir John how to politely persuade the ogres to sit up."

Sir Bertram considered. "Politely, huh? They're not so much with the common courtesy, ogres. But I'll give it a shot. You might try 'SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth.'"

Sir John sighed. "Say that again, slowly." They repeated it back and forth a few times until John could say it without stumbling over the long syllables. Then he turned back to the ogres and cleared his throat. "SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth." It was harder to tell amid the strange, hissing sounds of the Ogrese, but I could hear a bit of the same smoothness in his voice that had so ensnared me in Kyrrian. The ogres were all looking at him intently now, at least, though they made no move to sit up. He tried again, a bit more insistently, but still nothing. I didn't think I'd ever seen Sir John get upset before, but it had been a long day, and he was clearly on his last nerve. "SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth. SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth. SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth!" he snapped, practically stomping his foot at them.

Whatever progress he might have made was lost. The ogres weren't laughing anymore, but they glared at Sir John as though they knew exactly what he was doing, and remained stubbornly supine.

Sir Bertram smiled. "Ah, so that's the game, is it? Let me try." He made a great show of warming up his voice, then turned to the ogres and said softly, "SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth, krUUhlAA MMon."

He watched them for a moment, as if daring them not to obey. Nothing happened.

I didn't mean to laugh, I really didn't. But the consternation on his face, after he had obviously been so sure that he would be the one to charm the ogres into submission, was too much for me. I collapsed against a nearby tree, laughing until I was breathless. Aubrey and John joined in as Sir Bertram began to turn purple.

"Laughing at me, and you've had all afternoon to practice while I've been off actually doing something _useful_, so I didn't get it my first time, doesn't mean I bloody well won't..." his voice trailed off, and he took a few steadying breaths. I struggled to get a hold of myself – the last thing I needed was to make an enemy of Sir Bert again. His voice was almost deadly calm as he repeated himself once more. "SsahlOO aZZir rAAthaMM, ahlOOman rEEth."

And to everyone's surprise, including Sir Bert's, the biggest ogre suddenly sat up. "Well. Congratulations, that's certainly progress," I told Sir Bert, who was back to looking smug. "Do you think if we untie his legs enough that he can walk a little, you can get him to that copse over there?"

**. . .**

It took the entire afternoon and a good bit of the evening to get all the ogres moved fifty feet. Sir John and Sir Bert took it in turns to speak with each ogre and finally convince them to move. Sir Bert did a bit better than John, but even at his best he only succeeded about half the time.

I tried a few times to help out, but it seemed that I was more hindrance than help. My atrocious accent instantly snapped them out of their trance and moved them to laughter on more than one occasion. Eventually I gave up and turned my attention to cooking the hart Sir Bert had caught for dinner.

Sir Aubrey, for whatever reason, was uncharacteristically silent throughout the proceedings. He simply stood by watching as if it were all a rather interesting play. He made no move to join the others in their persuasions.

After putting the beeswax back in to remove the ogres' gags and feed them, and after setting up a rudimentary camp just out of earshot of where they were tied up for the night, and after taking our own dinner, the four of us had barely enough energy left to crawl into our bedrolls for the night.

"Tomorrow," I murmured, "Perhaps we can try getting more than one of them under the spell at once."

"What's this 'we,' lad?" asked Sir Bertram. "Sir John and I will see what we can do. You will stay out of the way."

I thought about reminding him that I was his commanding officer, but I didn't have the energy for a row just then.

"Your Ella must really be something special to get it right the first time, and with all of them at once," Sir John put in.

"My Ella," I agreed sleepily. "I wonder if it's just that she's good with the language, or if the magic comes easier to her. Perhaps both."

"A lass worthy of a prince, that one," John prodded.

"And then some." Just at that moment, it didn't matter that they were all laughing quietly at me. I drifted off to dreams of Ella, my ogre tamer.

_Okay, mostly filler, I admit. But cute filler. So, for those of you keeping score at home, back when I started this in the spring, I planned to update once or twice a week, which quickly turned into once every 6-14 days. Plus a hiatus type thing. Now, you've been (sort of) patient, and I think it's time to make this fic a priority in my life. I don't know how many of you have heard of NaNoWriMo, but it's basically a challenge to write 50,000 words of a novel during the month of November. Rather than start something new, I'm planning to devote that time to finishing this (which, knowing me, will probably take about 50,000 words anyway). Which means I'm going to be updating pretty much every day. No, that's not another false promise. I'm not exactly Miss Work Ethic, but I do take NaNo seriously. So look for more late tomorrow night. Should be a pretty exciting chapter._


	20. Betrayal

_As always, thank you for all the lovely reviews. A note to PrincessMadison: As I said, the previous chapter was mostly filler, not my most serious, thought-out work. But it is pretty clear in Ella Enchanted that the ogres' persuasion is magic. After all, anyone can talk persuasively, but not just anyone can make someone willingly come forward to be eaten. Also, there's a line where Ella calls it magic: "__That's why the ogres' magic had no effect on you." When she imitates them, somehow (it's not clear how) she manages to turn that magic back on them. I did extrapolate the bit where humans can use the same magic on one another, but that's not actually contradicted in canon, and it made for an interesting plot point. So yeah, you can and absolutely should challenge me on any bits of my story that you don't enjoy reading, but I don't recommend challenging my knowledge of the source material _

Ella was standing on a mountain of ogre bodies. Even as their bones cracked beneath her weight, they craned their necks to grin up at her, chanting "Our queen… our queen… our queen."

She glanced down and laughed merrily. "I need to get down now," she told them, and they shifted until their hands formed stairs, which she bounded down to where I waited, wearing my crown and full court dress. "What do you need with that silly thing?" she asked, dashing the crown from my head. She cocked her head, considering me. "There. Much better."

"Glad you approve," I told her. Her green eyes called out to me, and I drew her into my arms for a gentle kiss.

She let me kiss her, but in the next moment she had vanished. "Ella?" I turned in a circle, searching for the glint of sunlight off her dark hair. "Ella, darling, where did you go?" There was no answer. I turned to the ogres, who in her absence were disentangling their myriad limbs, staring at me hungrily. "Did you see where she went?"

One of the ogres grinned at me, showing teeth stained with blood. "Your Highness?" it whispered.

"You can call me Char," I told the ogre.

"That's very nice of you. Char, then. You shouldn't be sleeping just now. You're going to want to be awake, there are all manner of wondrous things to see."

I opened my eyes, blinking in the darkness. When my vision cleared, I recognized Sir Aubrey's face inches from mine. Not an ogre. Even in a dream, I didn't know how I could mistake Sir Aubrey for an ogre. Ogres were ugly. Sir Aubrey was not only handsome, he was obviously the smartest, strongest and best of my soldiers. "What? What do you want me to see?"

"Oh dear, I think you may have missed it. There was a fairy here, a moment ago, and she's going to give us all whatever we want most."

I smiled. "Ella?"

"Yes, yes, she's going to bring Ella to you, and the two of you will be together forever and ever. But there's just one thing you have to do first."

It all still felt like a dream, fairies and wishes come true, but I knew, absolutely knew, that everything Sir Aubrey said was true. Sir Aubrey wouldn't lie. "Just tell me what to do."

"Well, you see, Kyrria is cursed. The land, everything. As long as your family rules here, the fairy won't be able to grant any wishes."

"What? What does my family have to do with it?"

"Everything, Char, everything. Your grandfather took the town of Trumm away from Lord Batthus of Rhina, killed him, and all of Kyrria is stained with blood now."

I knew he was right, I wanted to just agree, but something didn't quite fit now. "That sounds like what those Rhinian rebels claimed, thirty years ago when they made their assassination attempt. Trumm was a contested territory for years, most of the citizens were Kyrrian and they asked for my grandfather's help. And Lord Batthus was a tyrant. He died in battle, Grandfather didn't murder him."

Sir Aubrey gave a strained smile, and his voice got a bit louder, though not loud enough to wake the others. "You've been minding your history tutor, I suppose. Good for you. But that's not the real story. And you can tell, because the land is cursed. Now, all you need to do is get a bit of paper and pen from your bags, and draw up a document ceding the territory to Rhina, and the curse will be broken. Then the fairy can come back and grant your wish."

I frowned. "But—"

"You do want your wish to come true, don't you?"

I did. Ella, back here by my side, not disappearing like in my dream. And maybe she wouldn't want to live in a cursed country. Maybe I didn't want to live in a cursed country. But still, there was a nagging feeling of something amiss. "Yes, it's just—"

"This maiden must not mean that much to you after all, if you're not willing to sacrifice a few leagues of cursed land for her. The fairy can just as easily turn her against you, you know."

I'm not sure what would have happened next, because just at that moment Sir Bertram gave a loud snore beside me, breaking through the sound of Sir Aubrey's voice, and it was like a layer of cotton wool had been pulled from my eyes. Sir Aubrey was trying to use the persuasion trick on me. "Sir Aubrey," I began sternly. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but—"

A look of panic came over Sir Aubrey's face. He clamped one hand over my mouth, the other held me down at the waist as I struggled to extricate myself from my bedroll. "Idiot. This could have all been so civil, thirty years of injustice solved in one night." He closed his eyes and fought to control his voice. "Char, why are you fighting me? I'm your friend, your only friend. I just want what's best for you."

I could feel the pull of his words, threatening to draw me under again, but whether because he'd lost concentration or because I was actively fighting against it now, I found I could resist. I spat against his hand. "You're no friend of mine," I tried to say.

Bertram and John were starting to stir at all the commotion. Aubrey drew his belt knife and held it against my throat. "You will come with me quietly, or I swear to God, I'll do it. A dead prince isn't as good as our land back, but it is something."

I quickly stopped thrashing around, my eyes on the cold steel of the knife. Shouldn't my life be flashing before my eyes right now? All I could think was, I don't want to die.

How could this be Aubrey? I'd spent the last few fortnights at his side, giving orders, taking his good-natured ribbing, sharing a fire at night. The soldier cum Rhinian rebel yanked me up, pressing the knife against my back as he marched me forward. Where, I didn't know. We were some unknown part of the woods, with little idea of the surrounding terrain, and our horses were tied up in the opposite direction. Where was there to go?

Now was the time to try my luck. I tried to call to mind the exact intonations I'd been hearing all day. "Aubrey, what are you doing? I've received a message from your king, he said to tell you that everything's fine now, you can hold off on kidnapping a member of the royal family." It was no good. Even I could hear the quiver in my voice, and the knife just poked harder into my back.

"One more word out of you and that's it. I'm not playing around here. I've no problem killing you, lad." We walked maybe a hundred paces in the dark, before Sir Aubrey shoved me down onto the stone floor of a cave. "Now, we're going to have a nice little talk, you and I. None of these little magic tricks either, just man-to-man. Sound good?"

I scowled at him, rather a useless gesture in the pitch black of the cave, but it made me feel better. "What's to talk about? You're a traitor to the crown, I'm the crown."

"Well, when you put it that way…" I could hear some of the old humor in his voice. "No, I guess we don't have anything to talk about. Funny, you spend all day watching people working magic on each other, you start to think maybe that's how it should be. But really, there's nothing like the old classics. Kidnapping. Assassination. How much do you think you're worth to that father of yours?"

Just what I needed. Another way to be a liability to Father. "Aubrey, what exactly do you think will happen here? He grants you the land, you return me and he just takes it back."

"That's one possibility. The other is that he gives us back the land, and then he keeps right on giving us whatever we ask for, because we hold his precious heir."

I tried vainly to see something, anything, in the pitch blackness. "We is 'we'?" You have a whole army hiding out in here? Because as far as I can tell, you're just one man whose horse is back at the camp. Doesn't give you a lot of leverage."

"We are the children of those executed thirty years ago, those who almost succeeded in exacting justice for Kyrria's thievery. And we will have justice, one way or another." I made a mental note to have a word with whoever was in charge of recruitment for the Kyrrian military. We needed more thorough background checks. "I'll be back. Right now I need to return to our camp. You have run off in the night, possibly chasing after that maiden of yours. I tried to go after you, but couldn't catch you in time. In the meantime, think. As crown prince, you have a right to make me a gift of this land. You could save yourself a lot of trouble by just doing that now. Don't wait for Daddy."

He didn't tie me up, but I heard the scraping of a rock being pushed against the cave opening. I ran to try to shift it back far enough to escape, but from what I could feel, it was positioned awkwardly so I would have to lift it nearly straight up, and no amount of effort could budge it.

Left alone with my thoughts, I paced back and forth, practicing what I would say when Aubrey came back. The exact words, the exact tone. A plan was beginning to take shape in my mind. I only hoped I could trust John and Bertram – the idea that one of my own men could so turn on me was not a happy one.

After who-knows-how-long in the unchanging darkness, I curled up on the cold stone floor of the cave and went back to sleep.

_Ooh, something dramatic happened! I'm particularly anxious for comments on this bit – am I taking the whole persuasion concept too far? Is there too much talking and not enough action? Do you just not care as long as Ella's not around? Let me know!_


	21. Fugitive

_Hey, everyone. So, some mixed feelings about the direction this story's taking. Let me make a few things clear: first of all, I'm absolutely not going to be straying off canon. By my count, two weeks pass before Char sees Ella again, and you'll see then why he doesn't tell her about all this. As for the persuasion: my interpretation is that the ogres have some inborn talent for it (though even NiSSh had to practice a bit, if you recall). Humans just hadn't thought to try until now, but they can do it with some effort (and apparently Ella was better at it than most, maybe because of her fairy blood). Maybe this is a bit of a stretch, but it's a subject Gale Carson Levine didn't flesh out too much, which I'm trying to explore. That's what fan fiction is all about, right? Also, I reread the part where Ella's afraid that if she marries Char, "enemies of Kyrria" will use her as a weapon, and that got me thinking about enemies of Kyrria._

_The thing to remember is, this is Char's story, not just Char telling Ella's story. Most of what happens here will still be based on things obliquely mentioned in the book, but not everything – otherwise there would just be a lot more scenes with the men shouting at the ogres or talking around the fire, which would get boring fast. That said, I'm certainly not offended by your doubts – I'm writing this story at least partly to become a better writer, and concrit is an important part of that. So please, keep letting me know what you think! And with that, we return you to your regularly scheduled story…_

I woke stiff, cold, and not entirely sure where I was. Then it all came rushing back. I didn't think I'd ever been this frightened. I'd grown up hearing about assassinations and political intrigues, but it always seemed so removed, not something that could ever happen to me. In many ways I was still the little boy, shocked that someone had the audacity to throw a tomato at my family. But this went considerably beyond tomatoes.

I stood and felt my way around in the dark, trying to get a better sense of my surroundings. The cave was a bit larger than I'd originally thought, with a small stream running along one wall. I splashed a bit of the water on my face, gasping at the numbing cold.

What scared me the most was that Aubrey had always been a spy. Rhinian allegiances didn't just pop up overnight – he'd been a soldier for lord knows how long, gaining everyone's trust, just waiting for his opening. And I'd been the one to give it to him. If it got out that humans could use the persuasion on one another, even as limited as it seemed to be, every would-be villain had a new tool at his disposal. Always assuming, of course, that Aubrey didn't start a war here and now.

"There has to be a way to stop this," I muttered to myself, my words echoing strangely off the stone all around me.

"You wouldn't be talking about me, now would you, lad?" came Sir Aubrey's voice from the entrance. I whirled around. The man had timing, I'd give him that much.

Time to get to work. I took a deep breath. "Of course not, why would I want to stop you? I only want to help you, Aubrey. I'll even sign over the land. Did you bring the pen and paper?"

He squinted at me suspiciously. "Aye, lad, I did. What is it you think you're doing, exactly? You trying that persuasion thing again? Because it's not working."

I made wide eyes at him, and layered my voice even more thickly. "I'm hurt you would even accuse me of such a thing. Why would I need to enchant you when we want the same thing? Just give me the paper, I'll sign it right now."

He held my gaze for a long moment. "Don't know why you're talking like that. I'm warning you, I think I might be immune to that magic. Or maybe you're just no good at it. But if you're really ready to sign…" He reached for his gunnysack, and in that moment when his eyes flicked away from me, I sprang for the knife at his belt.

It worked – I had caught him completely off guard, and now I was standing holding a knife against the man I had seen almost as a brother for the past month. This was really as far as I'd thought things through. "I don't think I am much good at the persuasion thing. Taking away someone's will, bending reality till they see the world the same as you… I'll leave that to you." I wasn't sure where to hold the knife – against his neck seemed wrong, somehow, since I was quite sure I'd never be able to really harm him, spy or no spy. I settled for waving it around in the air as I talked. "So… we're going back to camp now. And you're going to prison."

He looked at me steadily. "You're bluffing. You'd never use that thing. And I've another."

I did everything I could to keep my face calm. "Reach for it and see what happens." He considered for a moment, then slowly raised his hands in the air. "Right, then. Turn around and lead the way back." I kept the knife leveled at his back as he went, wary lest he reach for his second knife, terrified of what I'd do if he did. Where could he even be keeping it? I didn't see any obvious sheaths about his person.

John and Bertram were asleep by the banked fire as the camp came into sight, and I began to allow myself to feel relief. "John! Bertram!" I called. "Wake up! There's mischief afoot."

Like the well-trained soldiers they were, they were up and reaching for their swords before they stopped to question me. "Lad?" Sir Bertram asked, peering at me in the dim firelight. "We thought you'd run off on us. What's going on?"

"Sir Aubrey tried to kidnap me." I held up my hand to their immediate protests. "I'll explain in a minute. For now, just tie him up and gag him."

If I'd ever had doubts about these two's loyalty, they evaporated now. Here I was, asking them to tie up one of their own, and they did so almost without question. I really thought it was all over until Sir Aubrey pulled his second knife from his boot, cutting through the half-tied ropes and brandishing it at us with a crazy look in his eyes. "I'm not going down. Not like this." It was three on one and he knew it – even as he swung the knife back and forth to point it at each of us in turn, he was slowly backing away. "Don't try to follow me." And with that, he took off running.

All three of us made to chase after him, but he was fast, and within moments his form was lost in the darkness.

John turned to me then. "Care to explain, lad?"

**. . .**

After I'd given them a full account of the past night's events, Bertram and John sat shell-shocked. "He was… he seemed like such a good sort," John kept saying. "I worked with him on and off for years. All that time…"

Bertram's face was stony. "He fooled us all. And now he'll murder us all in our sleep."

I blinked at him. "You think he'll come back here? Surely he'll run now…."

Bertram snorted. "Lad, Aubrey was a soldier for years. He'll have been planning this his whole life. You really think he'd just give up now?"

"I suppose not. Well, we'll stay on guard. Never sleep all at the same time, always keep someone on watch until Martin and Percival return with my father's men, and they can launch a full-scale manhunt."

"I'd like to hunt him down myself. Scum thinks he can mess with our prince and get away with it…" I was rather touched that I was Sir Bertram's prince, really, but there was no time for heroics just now.

"We will find him. But for now, we're down to three men, we can't spare anyone to search."

John nodded slowly, over the initial shock now. "The lad's right. Aubrey's always been good in stealth exercises, if we split up we only help him."

Sir Bertram looked ready to strangle someone, but he nodded slowly. "Right, then. I'll take first watch. John, you'll take over at dawn?" John nodded. "Best get your rest, lad, you'll be needing it." He laughed humorlessly. "Have you noticed how your plans tend to end up with no one getting any sleep?"

_Shorter chapter here – turns out it's kind of hard to get these written in a day. But also, this was the only logical place I could think of to end it. More soon!_


	22. Confrontation

The air was tense the next morning over breakfast. All our eyes kept darting to the spot where Aubrey should have been sitting, perhaps making a face at the cold trail rations or teasing me about my terrible Ogrese. No one said much.

Even after the food was gone and cleared away, we sat in silence. At least two more days until Martin and Percival returned with reinforcements. What were we to do in the meantime? I had originally thought of using the time to practice on the ogres, but that seemed wrong now, somehow. Persuasion was best left alone.

After several minutes of a silence no one was willing or able to break, Sir Bertram stood abruptly. "I'm going hunting."

I started up at that. "No, Bertram, we talked about this. We have to wait for reinforcements first."

He shook his head. "Not hunting for Aubrey, though Lord knows it's tempting. Just hunting."

"Are you sure that's wise?" I asked. "He's out there somewhere, maybe just waiting for us to split up."

"Perhaps." He sighed deeply. "Lad, any way you look at it we're in a bad situation. But someone needs to hunt if we're to keep the ogres quiet, and unless we all go that means splitting up. I'm volunteering. Besides, I can't just sit here doing nothing."

I held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Take a knife. And shout if you need help."

Bertram laughed humorlessly at this last suggestion. "Don't you worry. Traitor scum tries to jump me in the woods, it's him who'll need the help. Appreciate the offer, though." He slung his bow over his shoulder and made to go, but turned back abruptly and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Courage, lad. We'll get him yet." And with this pronouncement, he marched off.

I turned to John. "I suppose we're left to guard the ogres, then."

John nodded mutely. He'd said little since last night, though every once in a while I would hear a mumbled "worked with him for years."

"Right. Well, considering the circumstances I think one of us should keep beeswax in his ears to guard against enchantment, and the other should leave it out to keep alert for signs of Aubrey."

John nodded again, shifting subtly into a more formal military position, legs slightly apart, back straight, arms stiff at his sides. He pulled the beeswax from a pocket, but I put a hand on his arm quickly to stop him putting it in just yet.

"I've been bespelled twice now, I don't think I can resist it unless I'm expecting it, and maybe not even then. So please, if you see me acting oddly don't hesitate to hold me down, shout at me, whatever you deem necessary. Promise me."

He didn't look particularly happy about this, but he returned my gaze unflinchingly. "Aye, your Highness. I promise."

**. . .**

I don't think I have ever been simultaneously so bored and so jumpy as during the next hour of guard duty. I could feel the ogres' murderous glares, could hear every rustle of the wind in the leaves, could see every slight shifting of the brush that might be Aubrey coming to finish us off. And yet, it never was. It was always just me, standing, waiting, imagining things.

On the other side of the pile of ogres, Sir John stood perfectly still at attention, eyes flitting ceaselessly from side to side. I supposed he must be well used to guard duty, if not in these particular circumstances. I wanted to scream, to ride long and hard away from here, to be doing something, anything rather than standing here waiting for an attack that might or might not come.

For the first time, I appreciated that I wasn't a full-time soldier. Even at the longest banquet or the dullest ball, I had some measure of control over what happened. Here I had nothing.

It was sometime in the middle of these musings that I became aware that something had changed. I hadn't heard anything, seen anything, but… I whirled around. It was the ogres. They were too still. They had long since discovered that their ropes were firmly tied and stopped struggling, but up until now there had been a certain amount of restless shifting. I wasn't sure they had it in them to simply lie there. But now none of them moved a muscle, their eyes all fixated on a point just to my left.

I turned, slower this time, knowing what I would see. Sir Aubrey stood, barely visible in the darkness of a particularly thick stand of trees, with a bow aimed at my throat. Lord only knew where he'd found the weapon – he'd had nothing when he ran away the night before. I called out John's name, realizing a second too late that he wouldn't hear me. I turned so my bow was pointing right back at Aubrey.

He laughed. "Maybe you'll use that thing and maybe you won't. I'm quite sure John will," he added, as John caught on a second later and joined me in calmly targeting Aubrey, his expression surprisingly calm. "But who do you think will get a shot off first? Your life is worth a great deal, after all."

He took a measured step toward us, and my grip tightened on the arrow I held ready. "Two against one, yes. But when one of you is so very… important… that hardly matters, does it, lad?" Another step. "It's nothing personal, you understand. You seem a decent enough fellow, even if you don't have much sense of self-preservation. It's just –" he cut off abruptly, dodging faster than I would have thought possible as Sir John took a shot. The arrow grazed Aubrey's arm, and he cried out but didn't drop his bow as a thin trail of blood welled up.

I was still holding my bow, but it was like I was frozen as Aubrey dashed forward and did the unthinkable: he released one of the ogres' gags. "They're the ones who've been lording it over you the past two days!" he cried. "Make them pay, and I'll release you."

The ogre chuckled. "Foolish human. They will pay, and so will you." Frantically I dug in my pocket for the beeswax, but then abruptly his voice changed, and so did the whole scene. "Human friends, please, drop your weapons. There is no danger here."

I glanced down, surprised. What was I supposed to be looking for? And why was I holding a bow? I tossed it away.

"Much better, Highness. And you, small knight? Why do you still aim that thing at your friends? We will keep you from harm if you only drop your bow." I followed his gaze to where Sir John still pointed his bow determinedly at his friend's face. I was confused a moment before I remembered. Both Aubrey and I tried to speak at once, but then with a small smile he gestured that I should go ahead.

"John can't hear you. He has wax in his ears." This struck me as funny. Wax in his ears. There was a reason for that, I was sure, but why would anyone not want to benefit from the ogre's wisdom?

The ogre laughed again. "Is that what it is? No wonder." His tone was jarring, and I frowned, wanting to shake my head to clear it of…something…but the next second he spoke again and the feeling went away. "Whatever you don't want to hear, little knight, it is gone now. Highness, perhaps you would be so good as to release me so I may educate our friend here?" Of course. Why was he bound? The world seemed to have gone mad, when the strongest and best protector was tied up on the ground and one of my knights closed his ears against him. I started forward, but stopped as an arrow whizzed by inches from my leg.

"Char!" Sir John cried, unnaturally loudly. "Whatever he's saying to you, fight it! You need to put the beeswax in, quickly!"

But before I had time to react, the ogre was speaking again. "I was wrong. This is not a friend. You saw, he took a shot at you, Highness. Go and place him under arrest."

Confused, I started forward, only to stop when John began shouting again, and soon they were both shouting at me in equal measure and I was hopelessly befuddled. In all the chaos no one was paying any attention to Aubrey, who came forward to grab me none too gently by the arms and half led, half dragged me away into the forest.

As the half-covered noise of the ogre's continued attempts at persuasion faded and my wits returned to me, I jerked wildly against Aubrey's vice-like grip. Aubrey opened his mouth, undoubtedly for another attempt to make me sign away my country, but he never got the chance. From behind him, Sir Bertram suddenly came out of the woods at a dead run and smacked Aubrey upside the head with the hilt of his blade. Aubrey went down in a dead faint.

In a glance, Bertram considered Sir John, who was still having a shouting match with a bound ogre several yards away, the ground strewn with arrows, Aubrey unconscious on the ground, and me blinking at him like a stunned fish. "I can't even leave you alone for an hour, can I?"

**. . .**

Sir Bertram, oddly enough, refused to take any credit for saving my life. As we tied Aubrey up and gagged him, tighter even than the ogres and quite a bit tighter than was strictly necessary to ensure he wouldn't escape, I tried several times to express my gratitude and every time the answer was the same. "Don't mention it, lad. Please."

It took Aubrey the better part of an hour to wake up, and when he did we didn't bother removing his gag. It was immensely satisfying to listen to his muffled protests and know he couldn't hurt me anymore. "You needn't bother struggling, scum. Anyone who would side with Rhina and with ogres in the same day deserves what he gets," Sir Bertram taunted.

"In case you hadn't realized," I added, "You are hereby under arrest."

Sir John was quiet the better part of the day, though I assured him that I bore him no ill will for shooting at me, and that he'd only done what I asked of him. We all stuck close to camp that night and the next day – Bertram had caught enough game to feed all of us and the ogres, though he mysteriously seemed to forget to feed Aubrey.

The day after that, my father arrived.

_The bit where Char is under the ogres' spell and turning on his own man is actually inspired a bit by the Odyssey, when Odysseus chains himself to the mast to avoid yielding to the sirens' song. And this marks the end of me trying to write original action scenes, at least for a while. Not my forte. By the way, my NaNoWriMo goal hasn't changed – there's nothing in the rules that specifies how I should space out the writing, or that I have to post it all right away. I think you'd probably prefer that I at least proof these chapters first, especially the ones I write in the throes of sleep madness while trying to get philosophy papers done. But yeah, 50,000 words by the end of November, and I have a little more than 12,000 written (though not necessarily posted) right now._


	23. Coming Home

_Edited! I seem to have uploaded an old version before. Note the last part of Char's conversation with his Father before the space break, and the last few lines of the chapter._

Sir Martin and Sir Percival had filled Father in on the way about the situation with the ogres, but he certainly hadn't come expecting to find a captive royal traitor. He listened calmly enough as John, Bertram and I gave him a tag-team report of the last few days, but when we had finished he unexpectedly drew me into a tight hug.

"Thank God you're all right," he murmured into my hair. I hugged him back, not knowing what to say.

After a long moment, he released me with a rough clap on the back, clearing his throat. "Right. This is serious news. I'm sure King Elroy will disavow any connection to this traitor, but still, there may be others. More to the point, people will want to know how Aubrey got so close. Ogres have always been the most dangerous thing in the kingdom because of the magic behind their words. If people realize they can use that magic too… this could change everything."

I traded uneasy glances with John and Bertram, knowing that I'd thought the same things only days ago, and that this had already been the subject of a few heated debates among the three of us. "Father, I don't think it's as bad as all that. The spell is more easily broken when it comes from a human, and it doesn't always work in the first place."

Father shook his head. "You're thinking as only one man, Char. You must learn to think like a king." This was an old remonstration, something he said to me nearly every time he came to watch me at my lessons, but still it stung. "Perhaps for any one man, it's no great tool. But an entire populace of people who know they may enslave each other at will? There will be people who have the knack for it, and they will terrorize the others. And even if they don't, there will be widespread fear and mistrust. No man will feel his will is safe."

"And how is all of Kyrria to discover this? We only found out because Ella used it against the ogres. How many will ever be in a position to do that? Or think to try it otherwise?"

"It only takes one, Char. For that matter, it only takes one rumor about what happened here for someone to put the pieces together."

Again, I glanced at Bertram and John. Last night, we had come to an agreement on this subject at least. Taking the cue, Sir John spoke up. "Begging your Majesty's pardon, but where Sir Bertram and I are concerned, at least, you may be assured that there will be no such rumors. And Aubrey and the ogres will hardly be in any position to talk."

Father gave a small smile. "Understood, soldier. Why don't you and Sir Bertram help the rest of the men mobilize the ogres?" Understanding a dismissal when they heard one, they made to go, when Father suddenly called after them, "Not with persuasion, mind you. Drag them if you have to." They saluted smartly and were gone. Father turned back to me. "Char, you've been with these men a while now. You trust them?"

I nodded gravely. "With my life. Literally, in this case."

"What about the others? Martin, Percival, Stephan?"

That one gave me a moment's pause. "I'd like to say yes. Four days ago, I trusted them. But four days ago I trusted Aubrey as well."

Father gave me a curious look that was half regret, half pride. "You're starting to think like a king after all. Well, from what I heard from Martin and Percival before today, I don't think they've guessed the big secret. And as for Stephan…where is Stephan, anyway?"

My heart sank. "He's escorting Ella to the Giant lands. And whatever he knows, I'm sure he's already told several times over to everyone he's met."

To my surprise, Father only chuckled. "I served alongside Sir Stephan on and off for several years before I took the crown. He does quite like to hear himself speak, doesn't he? But he saw no more than Martin or Percival did. And even that much will sound like a tall tale coming from him. Six knights taking down seven ogres? It's unheard of." I grinned hesitantly, but then his face grew serious once more. "This Ella, though, I'd forgotten about her. I can't imagine how, seeing as Martin and Percival talked of little else. They seem to think you're quite taken with the lass," he added slyly.

I flushed red and tried to stammer out some response, but he waved a hand impatiently. "Never mind that now. I take it this is the girl you wrote to me about, the one you're training the centaur for?" I nodded mutely. "Right. So you're well acquainted with her, then. What's her game?"

I found my voice, though it came out a bit higher than I would have liked. "What do you mean?"

"A maiden traveling alone, captured by ogres only to singlehandedly bring them to heel? Is she completely mad, or does she have something extra going for her? I've heard a story or two about that family on Lady Eleanor's side, fairy blood or some such. I must admit I've never paid any of it much mind, but perhaps you'd know."

It seemed too fantastic to credit. Yes, some small part of my mind still acknowledged that even in the few interactions I'd had with her something didn't quite add up. But the rest of my mind was firmly ignoring that small part. "I don't believe there was anything supernatural about it. She has a quick mind and a knack for languages, that's all. Plus a great deal of bad luck, of course."

Father pursed his lips but chose not to comment. "How much do you think she's put together?"

I considered. "She didn't even seem to realize what she was doing was so remarkable. I've seen her mimick creatures before, it's just that in this case the mimickry had more powerful effects. And if I ask her not to mention the incident to anyone, I'm sure…"

"No," Father cut in sharply. "I'll trust the soldiers because I have to. But you are not to give this maiden or anyone else the impression that the incident with the ogres was anything either to hide or to talk about. As for Sir Aubrey… he'll be dealt with, but as far as anyone outside this camp is concerned, Sir Aubrey simply went AWOL. Am I making myself clear?"

It made sense. Two simple stories: we were very lucky with the ogres, and then Sir Aubrey ran off. No dangerous magic, no treachery, no reason for secrets or rumors or panic. Though I didn't like the idea of hiding anything from Ella. Still, "I understand, Father."

"Good. I'm glad that's settled." A bit of the tension went out of his shoulders, but his face was still serious. "I had hoped this day would never come."

I couldn't imagine he would ever have foreseen this particular threat. "What day is that, Father?"

"The day I had to find you were the victim of an assassination attempt." I started to protest, and he raised a hand to stop me. "The crown has enemies, Char, we both know that. You acquitted yourself well in this situation, but there's still a chance there are more of them out there, and however much I might like to, I can't always keep you safe."

I shook my head. "Father... I appreciate your concern, but I can look after myself. And I have loyal soldiers like John and Bertram to guard my back."

"Yes, and you said yourself, until a few days ago you would have said the same of Aubrey. Char, until we find out how far this conspiracy goes, there are precious few men we can trust."

"Don't you think you're being a bit paranoid? Maybe there were other spies and maybe there weren't, but this was a very special circumstance. Aubrey had me practically alone and at his mercy. Others won't have that advantage."

"Yes, but don't you see? It only takes one. I think maybe you should get out of the country."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about? I should run off and hide just in case someone wants to hurt me?"

He smiled wryly. "I'm hardly talking about you shutting yourself up in a cave somewhere, Char. But a change of scenery... you're of an age to be spending some time at the Ayorthaian court. I'd been thinking about it anyway. Just for a year or so. If you go now, it will certainly throw off any plans these ruffians might have, and give us time to root them out. And in the meantime, you can meet a few new people, get to know the politics of a different court. The timing couldn't be better."

My head was spinning. Ayortha? Now? "This still rather feels like running away, Father."

His eyes flashed. "Perhaps it is. But this isn't a request, Char. I won't have you in danger here, not if I can avoid it."

Before this trip, I had barely left the castle, and now to go to a whole new country for a year? I thought about everything I would be leaving behind. My parents. Cecilia. Lydia. The men - although perhaps they would accompany me? Apple. Ella. Ella - it seemed as though we were always going in different directions, somehow. I'd seen her all of three times, and somehow she still seemed like the most important thing I would miss. Perhaps because I was sure the others would still be here when I got back - Ella felt more like a possibility. A possibility for what, I wasn't quite sure yet, but I knew I would only get a few more chances to figure it out.

"Father..."

He sighed heavily. "Listen. It's been a long day. You're not going to talk me out of this, and I'd rather not argue about it now. We can talk about it more when we get home. For now, why don't you show me where a travel-weary old man can find something to eat?"

With a weak smile, I led my father to where the others were stoking the fire, and for the rest of the night we all spoke of lighter things.

**. . .**

Sir Aubrey was gone the next morning, along with half of Father's soldiers. One look from him warned us all not to ask where they'd gone.

Father and the rest of his men accompanied us and the ogres back to Frell. After one long day of dragging the ogres behind the horses and walking alongside, Father sighed and turned to Sir Bertram. "My son tells me you have… a way with them," he said, one eyebrow raised meaningfully. "Try talking to them, see if you can't get them moving." Sir Bertram nodded and started forward. "In Ogrese, mind," Father added quickly.

"Of course, Sire. Though I make no promises. Tricky old buggers, they are."

Father's eyes twinkled in that way that meant he wanted to smile but he was being too royal to actually show it. "I'm sure they are. I ask only your best effort."

Bertram snapped a salute and cleared his throat. I wondered idly if he'd ever obeyed me that easily. Father's words had a kind of power behind them that didn't need magic, always had. It had been unnerving when I was a small boy who had torn his good court breeches climbing trees, but I appreciated it now. Something had shifted between Father and me, these last few days. I looked at him and saw past the sternness, to a king who was doing the best he could.

It took the better part of an hour, and Bertram could still only hold one ogre at a time, so we must have looked like some demented parade, with a ragged line of loosely shackled ogres trailing after us, with Sir Bertram riding up and down the line muttering to any of them who showed signs of slowing. But at least it was faster going after that.

Just out of sight of the palace, Father stopped us. "Tie them hand and foot again and drag them to the menagerie."

One of Father's soldiers, a new recruit from the look of him, no older than I, tentatively spoke up then. "B-begging your pardon, your Majesty. But they… they're moving so well, now, why stop it?"

Father dismounted, walking over until he was inches from the soldier's horse, looking up at him. "What's your name, soldier?"

"I… Luke, Majesty. Sir Luke, when I'm knighted next spring."

"Well, Luke, you'll soon learn that we have certain procedures in the army. And perhaps the most important is that when your king gives you an order, you do it."

Luke gave a squeak and saluted, looking like he was about to fall off his horse in shame. I looked on with distaste. I knew how important it was that no one ask too many questions about this, but still, the little show of power seemed so… brutish. Unnecessary.

I had to admit, though, it got things done. With no more questions, the men Father indicated set about rebinding the once more furious ogres and dragging them west, toward the menagerie. The rest of us continued north to the stables.

Father slid from his horse with a sigh. "Well, I, for one, intend to have a large meal on a real table with real silverware, and then a hot bath, and then a bit of quality time with your mother."

I raised an eyebrow. "You won't be swarmed by all the courtiers who can't get anything done in your absence?"

He looked at me in mild surprise. "I think the bit of adventure's been good for you, Char. Or maybe it's being in charge for a while. You've got yourself some spunk." It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about – I rarely spoke so informal with Father. He teased me, sometimes, but I usually felt like I owed him my respect.

"I'm sorry, Father, I-"

He laughed. "Don't apologize, boy, it was a compliment! And to answer your question… well, the courtiers can wait, as far as I'm concerned. But as it happens, most of them are conveniently absent. The guards were talking of it on the way in – some big wedding at the old castle. Did you ever meet Dame Olga? Thoroughly unpleasant woman."

Thinking back to that night at the ball, I couldn't help but agree. "Well. Perhaps now she's marrying she won't be so much at court. And who might the lucky man be?"

"Sir Peter of Frell. I suppose they deserve each other, though I do think it's a bit fast. A matter of months since the Lady Eleanor's death, you know."

I paid more attention then. "Sir Peter?"

He looked a bit confused at my reaction. "Yes, Sir Peter. Do you know him well? I suppose you could attend, I'm quite sure we've all been invited."

I wondered that Ella hadn't mentioned the engagement when I'd seen her. Presumably this was why she'd been in such a hurry to rejoin her father. I glanced down at my clothes. I was hardly dressed for a formal affair, but if I hurried… "Yes, I think I will go, if you don't mind."

"Mind? Why should I mind? Give my regards to the happy couple, I suppose. But when you get back, come find me. We should really talk more about your stay in Ayortha. I've given the men orders to be ready to depart again in two days."

"Two days?" I couldn't process this right now.

"Later. Run along to the wedding, we'll talk about it all later." I looked at him for a long moment in indecision, but if I wouldn't see Ella again for a year, it was all the more reason to see her now. Resolving to put the matter from my mind for the moment, I dashed up to my rooms to get ready.

_I honestly have no idea if they used expressions like AWOL in medieval times, but I figure it's all translated from Kyrrian anyway, so why not. Lots of time to catch up on my word count over Thanksgiving here (plus the upcoming chapters are much more Ellaful, and thus easier to write) – would you rather I post chapters as soon as I have them edited, or space them out so it's one a day from now until… I'd say until it's done, but that's probably overly optimistic. Until 50,000 words, anyway. Let me know!_


	24. Reunion

It surprised me how long it took me to get ready. I'd never been particularly vain about my clothes, and I was anxious to make it over to the old castle before the wedding was over, but for some reason nothing looked right. Black was too somber, red too flashy, brown too drab. Nearly the entire contents of my wardrobe was scattered about my floor by the time I settled on a soft gray doublet with ivory buttons. And then on my way out I nearly crashed into Cecilia, who was standing just outside the door to my rooms.

"I thought I heard someone in there. I was about to alert the guards that someone was robbing the royal bedchambers. What, you don't let anyone know you're coming home?" I grinned, but dodged around her.

"I don't have time for this right now. We'll catch up later, all right?"

"Fine, then. See if I care," she said, pouting, but I was already halfway down the corridor. "I missed you, too!" She called after me.

**. . .**

It was about a ten-minute walk to the old castle, less at a half-run as I was going now. As I approached, I slowed a bit. I didn't think I'd volunteered for a court function since the novelty wore off around the age of eight, and yet here I was practically gate-crashing. I could well imagine the titters if the crown prince tried to slip in late and unexpected. And there was sure to be a ball following the ceremony, with an accompanying throng of maidens who had been deprived of their royal plaything for some time, now. What if Ella resented the intrusion? It was her father's wedding, after all. She was likely to be focused on him and her new stepfamily.

It was absurd to come all this way only to turn back, though, so I tentatively pushed the door open. I was in luck – the ceremony seemed to have just ended, and the guests were all focused on congratulating the newlyweds. Before I could even look about for some sign of Ella, though, she burst from the reception hall and dashed up the stairs, a panicked look on her face. I automatically scanned the room for what might scare the maiden who hardly batted an eye at a horde of ogres, but I saw nothing, and all the rest of the guests seemed oblivious.

Perhaps she was unwell. Should I go after her? Fetch her family? Coming to a decision, I strode purposefully up the stairs, only to stop at a sudden collective gasp from the crowd beneath me.

Against my better judgment, I looked down, but I still couldn't see anything amiss. Although… I could have sworn that there had been a woman near the corner, surrounded by a small circle of admirers, and now there was no one. I shook my head. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

There were several doors branching off from the landing at the top of the stairs, and I wasn't sure which way Ella might have gone. I opened one at random, only to find her tumbling backwards at me, nearly falling on top of my shoes.

I knelt anxiously, thinking I really should have fetched someone if she was having some sort of fainting spell. "Are you well?"

She didn't answer for a second. Her eyes were still fearful, and she yanked me into a dark corridor, shutting the door behind us. Then she turned to me. "I'm fine."

Obviously there was something worrying her, but if she didn't want to explain… "Good." Secretive was better than ill. I stood, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. She was really here.

"I thought you were still patrolling the border. I didn't notice you at the wedding." I wished I could see her face – was she surprised? Pleased? Annoyed?

I hurried to explain. "We returned this morning. I arrived here just in time to watch you dash up the stairs." I trailed off awkwardly, thinking perhaps she would take the opportunity to tell me why. I wished, just once, she would let me in on the mystery that was her life. But I didn't wish to press, so when she said nothing I searched for something to say. "My father spent his boyhood here before the new palace was

built."

Sometimes after a long night, when he'd had a bit of wine, he'd get to talking about how the new palace had no character. "Too clean," he'd mumble, "There's a bloody maid every three feet, no room for the dusty little nooks and crannies that make a castle feel like a castle." From what I could see, this place definitely wasn't short on dusty nooks and crannies.

There was one story he would always get around to telling, though. "He says there's a secret passage somewhere. It's rumored to start in one of the rooms on this story." He always claimed that he and his brother stumbled upon the opening once, but they went back for a candle to explore, and ran straight into one of their tutors. They never found it again.

"Where does it lead?" I thought she sounded interested, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Supposedly to a tunnel under the moat. Father used to search for it."

"Should we look?"

My heart leapt. "Would you like to?" A bit of time alone with Ella, far from the eager masses, sounded almost too good to be true. And it was, I realized. It was her father's wedding. She would want to be down there with him. "If… you don't mind missing the ball."

She surprised me. "I'd love to miss the ball." When did this girl not surprise me? For now, I was prepared not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She led the way into a brightly lit room, and I found myself staring at her. It had been barely a fortnight since I last saw her, but I would have sworn she'd grown even more beautiful in the intervening time.

I was pleased by the distraction of the search for the passageway. It was all a game, going about searching for a passage that might be only the imagining of a little boy, albeit a little boy who became king. But if I was ever going to find it, it would be today, with Ella by my side. I felt like anything could happen when I was around her.

We searched mostly in silence, only the occasional "Oh, look here!" or "Can you feel anything?" And then, we offered our speculations on what the passage might have been used for. But it wasn't until I had her by the elbow and was essentially squiring her about the corridors that Ella struck up a real conversation

"You've guessed why I shut myself up here." To own the truth, I'd forgotten to wonder. But I was pleased that she seemed ready to share.

"I have no idea." I glanced into another room to avoid looking at her. I still didn't want to seem like I was prying.

"To avoid temptation," she told me seriously. Temptation? So the fear on her face – she was afraid of… herself? Giving in to temptation? That didn't make any sense.

"What temptation?" And suddenly I was grinning, realizing it would be a joke.

"Can't you guess?" I shook my head. I liked that she could joke with me, but just this once I wished she would just tell me what was really bothering her. I hadn't liked seeing her frightened. If she would let me, I would go and strike down whatever had frightened her. But instead, she just smiled at me. "The temptation to slide down the stair rail, of course."

I laughed. Maybe I'd rather believe her charming lies, after all. Stair rails, indeed. Lydia had even mentioned that to me, what felt like several lifetimes ago. "And why were you lying down?"

"I wasn't lying down. I was sitting."

"Pray tell why you were sitting."

"To pretend I was sliding down the stair rail."

And I really should have seen that one coming.

I pictured it then, her flying down, her dress all askew and her hair all wild, sailing straight into my arms. "You should have done it. I would have caught you at the bottom."

That sent her into a fit of giggles, but I was still rather enchanted with the vision I'd created for myself. When I finally took note again of my surroundings, it was to the somewhat disturbing realization that I didn't know where I was. I didn't spend much time here except for balls and the like – I'd never been wandering about the upper floors, so I'd never realized how the corridors all blended into one another to form a labyrinth.

"If we're not careful, we'll go down this one again. They're all the same."

She made some comment about Hansel and Gretel, which got me thinking. The only way to be sure we weren't doubling back on ourselves was to mark our way. And while a small part of me didn't mind the idea of wandering aimlessly through the castle with Ella by my side, there had to be something we could use. In a flash of inspiration, I pulled a button from my doublet, thinking ruefully that I'd chosen the right outfit after all. "I'm destroying my dignity without sliding down anything," I told her.

Once my shirt was flapping open against my underthings, we stopped investigating corridors and dashed across an open passage to a tower. To think that I had been so shocked at Cecilia's breach of propriety. If anyone caught us now, it would look just as scandalous, the crown prince alone with a maiden and in a state of undress.

Of course, that led my mind to what Cecilia had been doing. Ever since that night I'd dreamed of kissing Ella, the image had been coming back to me at odd moments, but never so strongly as now, with her warm breath against my shoulder as I sheltered her from the worst of the wind. It would be so easy just to turn my head a bit and brush my lips against hers…

Then we made it into the tower room, and the moment passed. Ella pulled away from me to seat herself on a low stone bench, rubbing her hands together to warm them. Searching for something to distract me from the irrational sense of loss that went through me when she left my arms, I considered the bench. The proportions of it were odd, the seat taller than the legs, and the stone on top was a shade darker than the rest.

She was saying something, asking me a question, but I was curious now.

"I don't know," I said at random. "Stand up." I nudged at the seat with my foot, and as I had half expected, it shifted a bit. "This lifts off!"

After so much time spent looking for hidden chambers, it was nice to finally find one. I'm not sure what I expected to find – it couldn't be the secret passage, obviously, but maybe a clue, or a map or something. So it was a bit disappointing to see only tools the gardener must use to tend this long-forgotten garden.

Except, under a leather apron was something else. Tucked away in a corner was a neatly folded pair of formal gloves that must once have been white, beside a glittering pair of ballroom slippers. I pulled them out. "I think they're made of glass!"

I'd heard stories about a pair of slippers much like these from my mother when she used to tuck me into bed at night. Apparently, my great-great-great-grandmother was thought to be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, and it was whispered that she had fairy blood running through her veins, because everything she touched, be it plant, animal or person, seemed different afterward, happier, healthier, with a bit of extra glow, at least for a little while.

Her feet were tinier than anyone else's, and she was proud of it. She delighted in collecting shoes from all over the world, and when my great-great-great-grandfather proposed, she told him she would marry him only if he could give her a pair of shoes for the wedding more beautiful than any she had seen before.

In the end, he went to a glassblower and asked him to shape the shoes exactly around her feet, because as he said, no shoe could compare to the foot that wore it. She never took them off, not in all the many happy years they were married, but they never broke, and they never got dirty. And when she grew old and knew she was going to die, she finally pulled them from her feet and handed them to my great-great-great-grandfather at her bedside, telling him that the next one who could wear the shoes was the next one who deserved to be queen. And he took them, and wept, and promised to keep them safe, but after his death a few months later, no one knew what had become of them.

I always rather liked the story as a boy, though as I got older I began to question the wisdom of its moral. If a girl had small, pretty feet, did that really make her any more likely to be a good queen or a good wife? Surely it made more sense to choose a queen based on her personality than her shoe size. And yet, finding these shoes here now, it felt like a sign. I handed them to Ella. "Here. Try them on."

They were a perfect fit.


	25. Flying

_Alert: if you read chapter 23 when I first posted it, you should go back and look at it again. Turns out I posted the unedited version, which left out kind of an important piece of the conversation between Char and his father.  
_

It was irrational, but it felt like everything clicked into place for me the moment that slipper slid onto Ella's foot. This dazzling creature before me, with the way she could always make me laugh, the way she made me feel more like myself, the way she was constantly surprising me, and yes, with impossibly tiny feet – she was the one for me. She was destined to be my princess.

In a daze, I asked her to stand and she did, twirling to the music drifting up from the wedding below us. There was nothing more natural than for me to come forward and join the dance. "The young lady must not dance alone," I told her, hoping my voice didn't tremble.

My hand found her waist, and we were off. I had done this so many times before, sometimes it seemed like my whole life was one long procession of dances with girls who all looked alike, and none of them was Ella. Dancing had never been like this before. I was keenly aware of every point where we were touching, and the familiar patterns of movement became a matter of watching her respond to my touch, advancing, retreating, just moving together, around and around the dance floor that was nothing more than a clear spot amid the potted plants.

We danced a few songs without speaking. Words seemed unnecessary when every movement was a conversation between us. But eventually thought returned, at least enough that I began to worry about keeping her from her family. In a brief lull between songs, I carefully broached the subject. "Do you want to return to the celebration? I wouldn't mind." That was a lie – this was the first time I'd been really alone with Ella, and the last thing I wanted was to share her with other people, but I didn't want her neglecting the party on my account. "Surely your family will have noticed your absence by now. Won't they be looking for you?"

She looked away. "Perhaps. Do you want to?" She made no move to leave my arms, and I wondered if she was as reluctant for the moment to end as I was.

"No. I came only to see you," I said absently. Then, realizing how that must sound, I added, "To be sure you arrived home safely." I had assumed she arrived home safely, since she was here, but surely that was an acceptable reason to seek her out.

"Quite safely. Sir Stephan guarded me well, and the giants took excellent care of me. Did you catch more ogres?"

I tensed. It was perfectly natural for her to ask, of course, but I didn't want her thinking too much about the implications of her ogre-catching methods. Taking a leaf from Ella's book, I tried to make a joke of it. "szah, suSS fyng mOOng psySSahbuSS." This was as many words as I'd picked up from Sir Bertram, listening to him the last few days. She laughed, of course. With any luck, she'd be so busy laughing at my terrible pronunciation that she wouldn't pay too much attention to the conversation. "They laughed too and never listened to me. Bertram was the best; they obeyed him half the time." She didn't ask any more questions, and as the music started again I let myself relax again.

Her face was still distant, though, and I was surprised when she introduced a new subject of conversation. "A fairy gave my father and my new mother an unusual gift. They… well, they said they loved each other, but that's not why they were getting married. And this fairy – Lucinda – took it into her head to cast a spell so that they would always love each other. She meant well, I think, and it does seem like it worked… what do you think of such a present?"

I considered. I was only now learning what it was to love someone. If it was all arbitrary, if I only felt this way because a fairy took it into her head that I should, if it was anyone but Ella, I didn't think I could live with that. "I shouldn't like to be under a spell to love someone."

She cocked her head at me thoughtfully. "Sometimes people are forced into wedlock. If they must marry, perhaps it's better if they must love."

I frowned, wondering what she was driving at. "Do you think so? I don't." She must know that arranged marriages were common for royalty – perhaps this was her way of wishing me happy. I thought of the conversation I'd had with Cecilia, months ago. Cecilia had accepted the inevitability of an arranged marriage – would she want a magic fix to make her love her intended? The answer came to me immediately – no. No, Cecilia would want to be mistress of her own feelings, as would almost anyone. As would Ella, I should think.

"It doesn't matter for you," Ella told me. "You can marry anyone."

My heart froze. If she wasn't talking about me… "And you cannot?" Perhaps I had been right, perhaps she had come back from finishing school engaged. And worse, engaged to a man she did not feel she could love. She blushed, and I thought I might weep.

I had to lean forward to hear her next words. "I suppose I can." I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. "We're both too young to marry in any case."

Too young. Too young I could handle. She would have to wait a year in any case – I realized I hadn't yet told her that I was leaving for Ayortha. Still, I couldn't resist teasing a bit. "Are we? I'm older than you." Mother certainly didn't think I was too young to marry, but I decided not to mention that.

"I am then," she said, not giving an inch. "And the fairy's gift was horrid. I would hate to have to love someone."

I wondered at the abrupt return to the earlier subject, but I agreed. "Love shouldn't be dictated."

"Nothing should be dictated!" The fervor in her voice was unmistakable, and I wondered who had been fool enough to try to dictate anything to this headstrong maiden. But then I thought of Sir Aubrey and his brief, frightening power over me. I thought of Father, able to send me wherever he liked because he was king and I was not. I thought of the way the course of the rest of my life would be dictated by what my subjects needed from me.

"As little as possible," I agreed. And we danced awhile longer, each lost in our own thoughts.

I wanted to enjoy the time we had together, to memorize her face and the way she felt against me, but I kept wondering how to tell her I was leaving. After the music stopped and we were just sitting side by side, I spoke a bit, hesitantly, about my soldiers, and a bit about the long journey to catch up with the ogres that had kidnapped her, though I tried to avoid speaking about the days after she'd left. "The poor men don't have too much time to rest, I'm afraid. We leave again in two days."

The look of dismay on her face gave me hope. "You're leaving again? So soon?" She made a valiant attempt at levity. "Are the ogres pining for you already?"

I sighed. "Actually, the ogres will have to get along without me. I'm going to be spending a year in the Ayorthaian court."

"A year!" I couldn't help smiling at her distress. It seemed she would miss me after all.

"Father says it's time." Never mind why. We promised to write to one another, and I thought that I would have a year's worth of letters to read and unravel all of Ella's mysteries. Assuming, of course, that she was joking when she said she would make things up.

When I heard the carriages departing outside, I tried to ignore it, but Ella went to the window. "The fairy's still here," she said, and there was a trace of fear again in her voice.

The way she had talked about her father's marriage, it seemed like even if Ella didn't approve of the fairy's gift, she wasn't unduly concerned on his behalf. So why was she afraid? "Perhaps she means to monitor the effects of her gift," I suggested, to gage her reaction.

"Would she? Do you think so?" The fear was still there, but also a bit of… hope, maybe?

"I don't know." I peered into Ella's face. That was enough to decide me. Whatever it was about this fairy that was worrying Ella, she needed to go. "I can tell her to go. She would hardly like a prince for an enemy."

"Don't!" I stared at her. The idea of me talking to the fairy seemed to worry her quite a bit more than the fairy's presence. So I dropped it, and watched as the fairy bid farewell to the family, and disappeared. Even knowing she was a fairy, it was still a shock to see such blatant use of magic. Suddenly the little scene at the reception earlier made sense.

If only all tonight's mysteries could be so easily explained. I watched as Ella visibly relaxed, and then she proposed that we go back down to find her family. I couldn't help wondering if she'd only stayed with me so long to avoid this fairy, though I couldn't imagine why.

We followed the trail of my buttons back to the landing. I didn't bother picking them back up – the shirt was ruined, at any rate. I wondered who was in charge of cleaning the old castle, and whether they would be confused to find the systematic distribution of buttons.

When we came to the landing, I remembered Ella's joking excuse for leaving the ball. I turned to her. "No one is here. You need resist temptation no longer." It came out almost as a challenge, though she didn't seem to notice anything amiss. And it was hard to remain suspicious when she was so genuinely excited at the prospect.

I wasn't sure when I'd stopped sliding down the stair rails at home. They were long, and well-polished, and of course there was always the chance that you'd knock over a courtier at the end, but most days that was just a bonus. For years, all my nursemaid's warnings that I'd fall and crack my head open, and even my stern admonishments that this wasn't behavior befitting a future king, had little effect. And then… something changed. I stopped being a boy and started being a prince.

When Ella was around, I was a boy again. It was one of the many reasons why I loved her. My brain got stuck on that thought. I loved her, I loved her, I loved her. It repeated over and over in my head as I whooshed down, feeling like I could let go of the rail and fly. I felt the familiar head rush as I regained my feet at the bottom, and turned in time to snatch Ella up and twirl her with me. Forget dancing, this was the most fun I could ever remember having. "Wait till you try the banister at home," I panted as we dashed up for another ride. It was a wonderful thought, having someone to slide down the stair rails with me for the rest of my life, and let anyone stop us if they dared.

We might have gone on that way for hours, but I'd forgotten that Ella's family would be looking for her. I spotted them in the doorway after our second ride, and realized how we must look, me in a state of dishabille with Ella in my arms. I set her down, bowing, trying to collect myself enough to say all that was proper, but I still felt like I was flying. Everything seemed ten times funnier than normal, and I could barely speak for laughing. This wasn't exactly how I had wanted to meet my love's father, but even that thought just made me laugh harder.

Eventually, I realized that controlling myself was a lost cause. I bowed, and with one last, hopefully apologetic, glance in Ella's direction, I took my leave.

_Hope the chapter's everything you all wanted it to be. Here's hoping everyone had a great Thanksgiving, full of thanks and giving and lots of turkey. I'm thankful for all my loyal readers and my thoughtful, helpful, awesome reviewers._


	26. Preparations

_Sorry I have to subject all of you to this, but as far as I can tell, there's no other way to respond to unsigned reviews. As I said before, I'm writing this to be a better writer, and thus I welcome, and even encourage, constructive criticism. Constructive criticism would mean that you read the chapter, and if you don't like it, you tell me which parts felt overwritten, or boring, or out of character, or whatever. Constructive criticism is not a one-word review, ten minutes after I post the chapter, saying "bad." That just makes me reread my work a bunch of times and freak out wondering what I'm doing wrong. A freaked out writer is not a productive writer. That is all._

"You look pleased," Father commented when I came to him later that night. "I take it you enjoyed yourself at the wedding?"

I grinned. "Pleased" was a colossal understatement. I still felt like I might burst into laughter, or sing, or run around the room shouting that I was in love with Ella, and I didn't care who knew it. But all I said was "Yes, Father."

Father smiled back. "I'm glad. Now, I suppose you're here about your trip to Ayortha."

My smile faded a bit, but I nodded. "Yes, Father."

"Well, I've spoken with your mother, and under the circumstances she agrees it's for the best. Normally I would at least send word to King Ormono to expect you, but he has issued a standing invitation, so there shouldn't be a problem. I'll write a letter for you to give to him."

I remained mostly silent while Father talked at me about Ayorthaian customs I would need to observe, most of which I remembered from my etiquette lessons. One suggestion did surprise me. "I believe you met the prince when he was here in my absence, so perhaps he will be some company for you, but it might get a bit lonely up there. You're welcome to write to us, of course, but I'd suggest you start keeping a journal. It's a way of organizing your thoughts so you don't take it out on the Ayorthaians."

If even Father was concerned about me getting lonely, I shuddered to think what the next year would be like. I had never kept a journal before, but it seemed as good a confidant as any, so that night I began writing. And what I wrote was everything I knew about Ella, everything I wished I knew, everything I would ask her the next time I saw her, which, I resolved, would be the next day. I wouldn't leave without a proper goodbye.

The nice thing about having only two days between coming home and leaving again was that no one expected me to return to my usual responsibilities. When I woke up the next morning, I could go and check on Apple without any fear of abandoning a horde of advisors. He greeted me cheerfully, but I wasn't sure if he remembered me. He had grown considerably in only a few months; he was no longer the clumsy, long-legged colt I had caught. The groom I had assigned to his care put him through his paces for me. By the time I got back a year from now, he would be well on his way to becoming a fine stallion.

When I returned to the palace, I had intended to go and say hello to Lydia, but I stopped short in the entrance hall, my eyes falling upon the grand staircase, or more precisely, the long, gently curving, well-polished rail running alongside it. Without thinking about it too much, I was running up the stairs and flying down the rail, over and over again, just like when I was a boy. I tried it different ways, mounting the rail sidesaddle, then backwards, then straight on again with my hands thrown in the air as I let out a war cry.

That last time, I nearly slid straight into Cecilia, who had apparently been roused by the noise. I managed to hold myself together a bit better this time than I had the day before, but she still looked shocked. "What on earth has gotten into you? This is the most interesting you've been in ages."

I grinned. "Just happy, I suppose."

Cecilia made a dismissive noise. "Happy to be abandoning your lovely kingdom for Ayortha? Really, Char, I thought you had better taste." She paused, scrutinizing my expression. "Hmm. It's not about Ayortha, then? Well, I don't know what else would make you this silly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love." I blushed, and she gave a low whistle. "No."

"I… well, yes."

"And might I be so bold as to ask the lucky maiden's name?"

"It's Ella. Ella of Frell."

"Hm. I don't think I've ever met her." She brightened. "But I suppose I shall soon enough. Someone needs to warn her what she's marrying."

I started to nod, and then caught myself. "Marrying? Who said anything about marriage?"

There was a pause while Cecilia digested that. "You mean to say she rejected you? I didn't think there was anyone in the kingdom who would say no to being future queen. Now I really need to meet her."

"No, no, I haven't asked her yet."

"Oh. So what are you waiting for?"

I considered. I loved Ella, certainly. The idea of her as my wife was intoxicatingly wonderful. And yet… it felt a bit sudden. I'd only seen her a few times, and I'd only realized how I felt about her yesterday. The same day she'd claimed to be too young to marry. "Some indication that she'll say yes might be nice."

She waved a hand lazily. "Oh, that. Like I said, any maiden would jump at the chance to marry you. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps. Although I don't think Ella's the kind to marry for anything but love. I wouldn't want her to marry me for anything but love."

"Yes, yes, we've had this conversation before. But the fact is, you've found someone. You really think the way to make her fall in love with you is to leave for a year?"

I hesitated. "She said I could write to her."

She gave a most unladylike snort. "Love letters. So much better in theory than in reality. It's not the same as having someone near, someone you can see and touch. And if she's as great as you say, what's to stop her from finding someone else in the meantime?"

I hadn't considered that. "If she falls for someone else, I wouldn't want an engagement to be the only thing holding her back."

"Oh, Char. Sometimes you're too noble for your own good, you know that? Besides, trust me when I tell you, the heart of a maiden engaged to the prince is quite a bit harder to touch than the heart of a maiden who's caught the prince's eye once or twice."

"Maybe you're right." At least it would be a way to find out whether I had a chance. She was surely frank enough to tell me, one way or the other. I tried not to dwell too long on the possibility of a no.

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right. So, how are you going to do it? Will you ask Mother for her rings? Oh, she'll go into raptures."

I winced. "No ring. Not yet. This is frightening enough without getting Mother involved. I'll just… tell her how I feel. Ask if she feels the same for me."

Cecilia pouted. "You're no fun. And I suppose I'm not allowed to tell Mother about this either."

"God, no."

"Fine. Let me know how it goes, I guess."

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming."

We stood there a moment more in silence, before Cecilia hesitantly spoke once more. "Char?"

"Yes?"

"How did you know?"

I squinted at her. It wasn't like Cecilia to beat around the bush like this. "How did I know what?"

"How did you know you were in love with this Ella?"

It was a fair question, but not one I particularly wanted to answer. "You'd laugh if I told you. It was… there was this whole thing with shoes. But I think I've known since I met her that she was something different, something special. Someone I could love. It was like… I just had to give myself permission to feel it, and then I realized I'd been feeling it all along." That was as honest an answer as I could give. "Why do you ask?"

She looked away. "Oh, no reason. It's an exciting time, with my big brother falling in love and everything. Gives me hope."

"What hope? I thought you were perfectly content to be married off to the highest bidder." My tone was light, but I was genuinely curious.

She looked like she might be on the verge of saying something, but then she closed her lips tightly, and abruptly donned a teasing smile. "Of course I am. We can't have everyone in the family going all gooey at the same time, now can we? Next thing you know the twins will catch it, and the palace will spontaneously combust from all the platitudes."

I chuckled. "And on that note… wish me luck, I'm off to propose."

I was almost out the door when I heard "Char, wait!"

I turned. "What is it?"

"Since this is a big day and everything, you might want to change your breeches. The back of those is completely shredded."

"Oh, Lord. Thanks for the warning." I dashed upstairs to find a change of clothes, feeling for the damage.

"I'm telling you," Cecilia called after me, "This love thing is overrated. If nothing else, it's terribly hard on your wardrobe."

_Keep in mind, this is a different time. People didn't exactly go on dates – if you loved someone, and they were the right social status, you proposed. Also, you all know how this bit turns out. I couldn't resist torturing Char just a bit more than GCL already does. More soon!_


	27. Hattie

_...Is it safe to reemerge? I present to you: the chapter that refused to be written. And still a lot shorter than I meant it to be. But, in happier news, more than 400 reviews! I continue to be overwhelmed by the response to this story, and don't despair, in spite of evil chapters like this one, I do very much intend to finish. After all, we're getting to the good stuff now._

I was halfway to Ella's manor when I realized that she wouldn't be living there anymore – she'd told me yesterday that she was moving in with her stepfamily. It took me another moment to realize that I didn't know where Dame Olga lived.

I was looking around for a place to ask for directions when someone called out to me – the street vendor from the last time I was in this part of town, months ago. His name escaped me at the moment, but from the way he was waving one would think we were great friends. "Highness," he called again. "An honor to see you again."

"And you too, Sir," I replied, desperately trying to recall his name. Adam, that was it. Not that it mattered – he was visibly pleased at being called "Sir." "I trust your vegetables have fared better in my absence."

"Aye, no more tramplin'. I don't think anyone would dare, with you about." He cleared his throat loudly, and his daughter appeared from behind the cart. "Can _we_ offer you summat, Highness? My carrots are the finest in Frell."

Another day I might have taken a carrot for Apple, but it was hard to ignore the slight emphasis Adam place on "we," or the glances he kept throwing in Drina's direction (I was pleased with myself – I remembered her name straight away). Drina, to her credit, seemed to be ignoring it all as best she could. Here was something I wouldn't miss, if by some miracle Ella accepted my proposal – all the eager parents practically throwing their daughters my way.

"I'm sure all your wares are very fine, but I'm afraid I'm not in the market for vegetables today. If you could tell me where Dame Olga lives, I'd appreciate it."

"Drina, girl, tell the prince which way to go," Adam said, all but shoving the reluctant lass forward. "She could go with you and show you the way, if you like," he added hopefully.

"No, no," I said quickly, "There's no need for that. I can follow directions well enough." It seemed asking for trouble to call on one maiden with another in tow.

"Aye, but I'm sure it's no trouble, isn't that right, Drina?" he pressed, nudging her even closer to me.

She hesitated, then dropped a curtsy and met my eye slyly. "Indeed, Highness, I believe I've an errand to run in that area of town anyway. I can certainly point you in the right direction before we part ways."

This wasn't exactly what Adam had in mind, but he could say little to object now. I accepted her offer, and as soon as we were out of Adam's earshot Drina turned to me. "Dame Olga lives in the posh part of town. Keep going along this road and the manor will be on the right. You can't miss it, it's the largest one with the most windows anywhere in the area. I apologize for my father, Highness. He means well, but he forgets his place. I'll leave you to your business now."

She said all this rather fast, and was already turning away when I gathered my wits enough to respond. "It's not such an imposition, you know."

She cocked her head at me. "I beg your pardon?"

I gave my best effort at a winning smile. "You're a lovely maiden, and any man should be so lucky. Your father understands that. It so happens that I'm not looking for matchmaking just now, that's all."

"Well… I thank you, Highness, that was… unnecessary, but sweet I suppose. I had assumed you weren't in need of matchmaking. Few people are, when they have the advantage of being heir to an entire country. Similarly, I'm not in need of reassurances as to my personal charms." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or to apologize. I began to do a bit of both, and she cut me off with a grin. "Don't bother. As I said, it was rather sweet."

I grinned back. "You remind me of someone," I told her on an impulse.

"Well, then, I suppose I'll return your compliment and say she's a lucky maiden indeed."

"No, actually–" I blinked. I had been thinking of my sister. It hadn't even occurred to me to compare Drina to Ella – Drina was lovely, certainly, and she had a certain wit about her, but she wasn't Ella. There didn't seem to be a tactful way to say this.

Thankfully, she cut me off. "Never mind, it's none of my business. We're coming dangerously close to a real conversation here, and I don't want to give Father the satisfaction. Farewell, Highness."

She turned again to go, and I caught her arm. "I believe I told you when we last met that you should call me Char."

She made a face. "You were serious about that? It seems a bit disrespectful."

I laughed. "More disrespectful to ignore a request from your prince, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair enough," she said in a tone that suggested she was mostly humoring me. "Farewell, Char."

We parted. By the time I had reached the corner, my thoughts had returned to the coming meeting with Ella. I didn't look back to see if Drina watched me go.

**. . .**

As I approached the house I went over the conversation over and over in my head. We'd say hello. She'd inevitably say something to surprise me, or make me laugh, or confuse me. We'd converse a while, and I'd mention my afternoon sliding down the stair rails, and the fate of my breeches. She'd laugh at that, which would be wonderful, and I'd have to try not to let myself get too distracted. And then I'd tell her how it was all thanks to her, that she made me feel free and light and young the way nothing else could. And I'd ask her to wait for me in the coming year, which right now seemed an impossibly long time away from her. I'd ask her to marry me, when I returned.

My imagination failed me there. I had several nightmare-visions of her laughing at me, or saying she was already married to someone else. Saying she'd joined a convent. Saying she'd rather join a convent than spend her life with someone like me. I tried to push these thoughts aside, but try as I might, I couldn't imagine her saying yes.

Nonetheless, I had to try. At least, that was what I kept telling myself as I presented myself at Dame Olga's intimidatingly large front door and knocked.

A manservant answered the door. I wondered if Dame Olga picked her servants to be as proud as she was, because when I told him my name and my business, he gave me a look that suggested the household entertained royalty several times a day and he was rather bored of it all. "If your Highness would be so good as to wait here," he said, and sauntered off.

It seemed an unutterably long time before anyone came down to me. When I finally heard the clatter of heels on the stairs, I straightened abruptly from where I had been leaning against a wall, stumbling slightly and smoothing my sweaty palms against my tunic. I couldn't remember ever being this nervous. I was half convinced that when I opened my mouth to speak to Ella, no sound would come out.

I needn't have worried. The lass who appeared at the stairs was not Ella. I recalled being introduced to her the day before, so she must be one of Ella's stepsisters, but everything had been in such a tumult that I hadn't had much chance to observe her. I did so now. She was an average-looking girl – her eyebrows a bit too think, her face too square, and her teeth too large for traditional beauty, but no serious defects. Her hair was certainly striking, though after seeing her mother I assumed this was a wig. All in all, I couldn't decide what it was about her that rubbed me the wrong way. Perhaps it was the way she was smiling at me, as if I were a prize to be won. I saw that smile several times a day at court, but in a potential future relation, it was more than usually unpleasant.

She descended the stairs slowly, her hips swaying back and forth as her eyes locked on mine. When she reached the bottom she curtsied with a flourish. "An honor and a pleasure to see you again so soon, Charmont."

My first impulse should have been to correct her, tell her to call me Char. With anyone else, I would have. Then again, anyone else would have started by calling me Highness. "Likewise, I'm sure. I apologize for the… unorthodox nature of our introduction yesterday."

"Oh, Charmont, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm sure any discomposure was my dear stepsister's fault. I'm afraid she was never properly finished. Can I offer you some refreshment?"

I didn't particularly like the way she brushed Ella off as an annoyance, but I worked to keep my tone light and civil. "I thank you, no. Is Ella at home?"

Her smile never slipped – if anything, she smiled harder – but she didn't look pleased. "I'm afraid you just missed her. My mother took her to call on the neighbors – it's so important to make oneself known, the first day in a new neighborhood, don't you agree?"

"I suppose." I was reminded forcibly of the day I arrived with Apple in tow only to discover that Ella had gone off to finishing school. Why did I always assume that her life stood still when I wasn't with her? "Do you know when she's expected back?"

"It shouldn't be long. In the meantime, perhaps you and I could become better acquainted. You're sure I can't offer you anything to eat or drink?"

"No. But I would like to know you better." Ella's stepsister. My future relation, if all went well. I just had to keep repeating that to myself. "In fact, I'm afraid that in all the confusion yesterday I didn't catch your name."

Again, her eyes narrowed slightly, and in spite of her slightly manic smile she looked almost dangerous. "Well then, I am Henrietta of Frell. You may call me Hattie." She curtsied again.

"And I am Prince Charmont, but you already knew that." Introductions over, I cast about for a topic of conversation. "I understand you were lately at finishing school?"

Apparently this was the right question to ask, or perhaps any question would do, because Hattie immediately launched into a full account of finishing school – which mistresses had complimented her work, which didn't know their place, which maidens were her friends, which put on airs. Her tone was quite as formal as any court lady's, and yet the things she was saying – I don't think she even realized how petty she was being. I listened quietly, hoping Ella wasn't too often subjected to her stepsister's company.

Eventually, seeing that there was little chance Hattie would stop talking on her own, I interrupted. "I understand that Ella recently attended finishing school as well. Did you see much of her there?"

She smirked. "Oh yes, Charmont, Ella and I have been great friends almost from the moment we met. Has she not spoken of me?"

"No, I don't think so. But then, we haven't had much chance to talk since she got back."

She looked unreasonably pleased by this news.

"Well, my dear Charmont, I am afraid she began acting rather… queer… toward the end of her stay. You are aware, I'm sure, that she left quite suddenly?"

I nodded gravely. "She had mentioned that."

"Just left! Without a word to anyone! There was much speculation as to the reason for her sudden disappearance, even rumors about… shall we say, an inappropriate relationship with one of the other students, an Ayorthaian lass, quite below Ella's station. For myself, I resolved to think the best, and I'm convinced she simply couldn't handle the classwork. She struggled quite a bit, you know."

I stared at her. Could she really be suggesting what I thought? It was time to go. "Well. I believe I should be going. Tell Ella I called for her, won't you?"

"Of course. Really, it is quite unaccountable that she hasn't returned yet. I shall be sure to scold her for missing the pleasure of your company."

"And it was… lovely to meet you properly, Hattie. Our conversation… will stay in my memory forever."

Luckily, she didn't notice the irony in this last statement. Her smug smile followed me out.

_Up next: Olive gets a turn in the Char torture-fest!_


	28. Upstairs

_Um. Hey, guys! Happy New Year. One of my resolutions is to cut down on long, rambly author's notes full of promises I don't end up keeping. But. I'm back, armed with a shiny plan for where I'm going with all this. Hopefully a few of you are still out there reading._

When I returned the next day, only to be told that Ella was out again, I seriously considered leaving. But this was my last chance to see her for a year, so I settled myself to wait as long as it took, trying not to wince as Hattie bounded down the stairs looking like a crocodile ready to swallow me whole.

"My dear Charmont, I am quite overcome with the honor of your presence. This is the third day in a row, what will people think?" As she stepped down to the landing, I noticed the maiden behind her, a pale, waifish thing with a blank expression. I smiled at her, relieved at the distraction from Hattie's fawning.

"Hello," she said.

Hattie sighed impatiently. "May I present my sister, Olive?"

"It's good to meet you, Olive. Or I suppose I've met you before, but I'm afraid we didn't have much chance to talk."

Hattie laughed softly. "Oh, Olive has never been much for talking."

Olive scowled at her sister. "I talk. I can talk to the prince if I want to."

"Talk then," Hattie said impatiently.

Olive turned to me, still scowling, and said nothing. After a moment, I spoke up. "Your sister told me a bit about your time at finishing school, yesterday." I paused expectantly, but she seemed perfectly content to stare at me and say nothing. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Her expression didn't change. After a long moment, she replied, "No."

I glanced at Hattie, who seemed completely unsurprised by the stilted exchange. Apparently 'never been much for talking' was an understatement. Still, if it was a choice between Hattie's vindictive slander and Olive's terseness… "I'm sorry to hear that. What exactly did you dislike?"

There was at least a shorter pause this time. "They were mean to me." Another pause. "You're the prince."

I frowned a bit at the non sequitur. "Yes, I am. But on occasion, people are mean to me as well. I'm sure you found a way to cope."

Hattie burst in at that point. "Oh, Charmont, I'm sure that no one would have the audacity to disrespect you."

"You'd be surprised," I muttered darkly.

"Can you make people give you their money?" Olive asked suddenly.

I blinked at her. "What?"

"Do they have to give you their money if you tell them to?"

"I suppose that's essentially the idea behind taxation, but it's hardly arbitrary. There's a system in place, to keep the kingdom running smoothly…" she was already shaking her head. I trailed off.

"If you told Hattie to give you her money right now, would she have to do it?"

I glanced at Hattie again, but she only gave me her customary smile. "Why would I want to take her money?"

"To become richer," she replied flatly.

"But why should I want to become richer at your sister's expense?" Olive's expression was blank – blanker than previously, if that was even possible. I found myself instinctively speaking slower, as I would to a very small child. "Perhaps when you have extra pin money you may spend it on…" I paused. What did young ladies do with their money? "New dresses, or jewels. But I have little need for such things. In fact, I rarely have occasion to spend money at all, at least on my own account. I should as soon give my money away as take it from others."

That got her attention. "Though I'm afraid the matter is irrelevant, as neither of us is carrying a purse," I quickly added, and Olive's shoulders slumped.

"How generous you are, Charmont," Hattie cooed. "Isn't that generous of him, Olive?"

"Very generous," Olive parroted dully.

"Can I tempt you today with refreshments, Charmont? I'm afraid it's the only generosity in my power to offer right now." Hattie leaned forward and fluttered her eyelashes in a way she probably thought was flirtatious, though it only made me think of a slightly cross-eyed rabbit.

I wasn't particularly keen on spending another afternoon standing awkwardly in Ella's foyer, but taking tea with Hattie seemed to send the wrong message. I compromised. "No, thank you, but I wouldn't mind sitting down. Is there somewhere more comfortable where we could wait?"

Hattie started. "Of course! Please, let me show you to our sitting room." I realized I hadn't thought this through when she extended her arm for me to escort her into the next room. Reluctantly I came forward, resting my hand lightly in the crook of her elbow. Her other hand came up to pat mine in a proprietary way. Her skin was unpleasantly clammy. Olive silently shadowed us into a lavishly decorated parlor, and I dropped Hattie's arm as quickly as courtesy allowed, resisting the urge to wipe my hand against my trousers.

I didn't think I'd ever taken such a strong, immediate dislike to anyone in my life. I'd had maidens looking at me with schemes in their eyes since the day I was presented at court, but this was something different. I felt like every moment in Hattie's presence was sapping away my spirit until I was just a handsome face and a royal title.

We'd barely seated ourselves when a servant woman with frizzy gray hair entered the room. After a moment, I recognized her as the cook I'd spoken to ages ago. Mandy.

If it were possible for a person to curtsy sardonically, I would say that Mandy did so. But perhaps it was only in my imagination, because Hattie saw nothing amiss, and Mandy's greeting was perfectly proper. "Ladies. Your Highness. Will you be wanting anything from the kitchens?"

I smiled at her. "I've already been shockingly rude and declined repeated offers of refreshment, actually."

Olive stirred. "I want—"

"Hush, Olive," Hattie said sharply. "We want nothing, Mandy."

Mandy curtsied again, but made no move to leave the room. Which was rather strange, but I was grateful for any respite from present company. I cleared my throat. "Have you worked here long?" I inquired civilly.

She raised an eyebrow. "I am employed by the late Lady Eleanor's family, as I believe you know, Highness. Where the family goes, I go." She punctuated this statement with a pointed look in the direction of the stairs, but I couldn't make out her meaning.

"Mandy," Hattie spat, "I said we want nothing. You are free to go."

The cook nodded and turned on her heel. Over her shoulder, she addressed me again. "I'll give Lady Ella your regards, then, shall I?"

That got my attention. "I had meant to give her my regards personally. Have you any idea when she might be back?"

Hattie's voice cut through any reply Mandy might have made. "I told you, Charmont, Ella is expected back at any moment. I can't imagine why our cook should have more accurate information about Ella's whereabouts than her own sister."

I bit back my reply that Mandy had been Ella's cook much longer than Hattie had been her sister. "I'm sorry, I'm only anxious to see her before I leave tomorrow."

Mandy jerked her chin in the direction of the stairs, even as she replied calmly, "I'm sure. Mistress Hattie is right, though, she would know better than I _where Ella is_." She emphasized those final words, and I felt a great simpleton. Obviously she was trying to tell me something, but for the life of me I couldn't imagine what.

Hattie, for her part, was distracted by my last words. "Oh, are you leaving Frell again so soon? From what I hear, you've only arrived a few days ago."

I reluctantly turned my attention back to her. "Yes, I'm to spend a year in the Ayorthaian court."

Hattie immediately began cooing about what a pity it was that I should leave so soon, just when we were getting to know each other, too. Mandy, I noticed, slipped out in the confusion, though not without one final pointed look at the stairs.

"Your manor is lovely," I said suddenly, firmly interrupting Hattie mid-speech. "Would you mind showing me around? I'd love to see upstairs, in particular."

She blinked at me for a moment, taken aback, before her face morphed back into its customary wide, false smile. "Of course. Come, Olive, let us give our guest the grand tour."

And so it was that I spent the better part of the afternoon traipsing about the public parts of the manor, with Hattie prattling on about windows and rugs and wallpaper, Olive trailing behind us and occasionally piping up to say how much something cost.

Whatever Mandy wished me to see, though, it remained stubbornly hidden, and Ella was nowhere in evidence when I gave up and took my leave for the second day in a row.

It seemed I would leave without telling Ella goodbye, let alone proposing marriage. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the door of that accursed manor, taking a few deep breaths. It wasn't the end of the world, I knew. I could still try to see her the next morning, and if all else failed, she'd promised to write to me. I knew all that, but it was hard to shake the feeling that something had permanently slipped out of my reach.

Maybe it was just hard to feel optimistic about anything when my ears still rang with Hattie's incessant drivel. The sun was going down. Father would be wondering where I was. I set off toward home.

I couldn't help one last glance back, though. What was it that Mandy had been hinting about, upstairs? The last time we talked, she hadn't seemed the type to beat around the bush about anything.

My question was abruptly answered when I caught a flash of movement in an upstairs window. It took less than a moment to recognize the figure. Ella.


	29. Cecilia

I'm the first person to admit I have flaws. I can be thoughtless, hot-headed, or just downright stupid. But until that day, standing outside Ella's manor, I'd never thought of myself as a coward.

Apparently that's what I am. Because I didn't go back. I didn't march inside and demand that Ella's lying snake of a stepsister take me to her. I didn't throw stones at Ella's window and shout up to her to ask why she was hiding from me. I didn't even allow myself to turn around and look at her.

Instead, I ran away.

As I made my way back to the castle, the last few days reshaped themselves in my head. At the wedding, while I was realizing my feelings for Ella, she was… what? Insulted? Indifferent at least. While I'd been enduring her stepsisters' company, hoping for a last glimpse of her, she'd been hiding in her room, waiting for me to go away. She'd foisted me off on Hattie rather than tell me that she didn't want to see me anymore.

It didn't make any sense. I couldn't imagine that I had misjudged her so badly. But I couldn't think of any other explanation. I'd known Ella long enough now to appreciate that there was nothing that could keep her in her room if she didn't want to be there. Even ogres couldn't hold her against her will.

I'd made it almost all the way back to the palace when I decided that I couldn't leave it like this, not for a whole year. I would sit through the inevitable farewell dinner, gather my thoughts, and then go back to confront her.

That decided, I opened the door to my rooms only to be accosted by my sister.

"There you are, where on earth have you been all day? In case you hadn't realized, there are a few people who'd like to say goodbye."

I blinked at her. "You know where I've been."

She made an impatient noise. "What, proposing? I thought you did that yesterday. You could have brought her to dinner, you know, I'm sure our parents will want to meet their future daughter-in-law." She yanked me toward the door. "But it's too late now, come on, we're late."

"You're not going to ask me how it went?"

"Char, we've been over this. I don't need to ask how it went, no one's going to say no to marrying a prince." She stopped talking and pulling at my arm long enough to give me one curious glance. "Although, come to think of it, you don't look nearly as disgustingly happy as I would have expected."

"She… refused even to see me."

Cecilia stared at me in shock. "What, really?"

I rubbed at my neck and went to sit down. "I don't know! I wouldn't have believed it of her, but I don't know what else to think. Her stepsister told me she was out calling, but when I left I could see her hiding in her room."

Cecilia bit her lip. "Well, do you think she… no." She grabbed at my arm and heaved me up off my couch. "Any other time, I would be happy to discuss the mysteries of your love life, but right now you have a surprise party to get to."

I frowned, but let her pull me along. "What do you mean? Isn't there a formal farewell dinner?"

"Sort of. Just come _on._"

I submitted, letting myself be steered down several corridors to the family's private parlor. I frowned. "Cecilia, what-"

She poked me in the small of the back. "I swear, you are _impossible_ to surprise, because you won't just go along with things without demanding an explanation. Now, I got you here, my job is done."

And with that, she threw open the door.

I hadn't seen the room in years. It looked different from the rest of the palace – the stone floor covered in a thick, soft rug, a cheerful fire burning at the hearth, a few squashy red sofas placed at just the right angle to sit and look into the flames. It wasn't made to look impressive like the rest of the palace – it was just home.

Cecilia and I used to play there sometimes as children, and Mother would come to sit in a corner and watch us when court life got to be too much – most often while she was pregnant with my brothers. I can remember a few, glorious nights when Father was just returned from some delegation or other, the whole family would sit by the fire for hours, just telling stories and hiding from the world outside.

Mother came forward to pull me into her arms. "There you are, darling, I was afraid something had happened to you. Do you like our little party?"

She'd set out a table laden with sandwiches and a bottle of wine, plus a pitcher of water for my brothers. My family was waiting for me, with no distractions, no courtiers, no etiquette to be followed. "It's perfect."

"Your father thought you'd want a proper meal, since you'll have nothing but travel rations the next few days, but I thought it would be better if we didn't have servants carrying courses in and out."

"You were right. Thank you, Mother, this is wonderful."

She squeezed me again before letting me go. "I will miss you."

Father stepped forward to clap me on the back. "By the time you return, you'll be very nearly a man grown."

The twins each latched themselves to one of my legs. "Bye, Char!"

I held up my hands in protest. "I'm not leaving right this moment!"

Cecilia snorted from behind me. "Hear, hear. Let's eat, shall we?"

**. . .**

We stayed up until past midnight, talking and eating and laughing like I imagined normal families must do. It was the kind of night we rarely had these days, as Cecilia and I had gotten older and gained new responsibilities. Though none of us spoke it, we knew this might be the last time. By the time I returned, a year hence, Cecilia might well be preparing to start a new life in some far-off kingdom.

My brothers dropped off to sleep on either side of me, and finally Mother said goodnight and carried them off to bed. Father followed a few minutes later, leaving Cecilia and I staring into the dying light of the fire.

We were quiet for several minutes before Cecilia spoke. "So, let's have it, then."

I turned. "What?"

"Your maiden. The one you didn't propose to. What happened?"

I sighed. "I don't want to talk about Ella right now." The room had become a sort of shelter from real life. As soon as I left, I knew I'd have to face the possibility that my attachment to Ella was completely one-sided. I'd have to plan what to say to her, how to proceed, how to recover some piece of my heart. But for now, I was content to let it be tomorrow's problem. "I'm sorry we haven't had much chance to talk, these past few days."

She laughed. "We've talked plenty, it's just all been about you."

"Fair enough. Tell me, Cecilia, how have you been filling your time since I've been gone?"

She shrugged. "A few more balls, about a thousand more lessons, and the viceroy of Pu sent an ambassador with his respects. He's only about ten years older than me, he might be thinking of making an offer."

I swallowed. "Pu's far away."

"Far enough. I imagine that's why he didn't come in person."

"I don't know anything at all about the viceroy. What's his name?"

"Gareth. And by all accounts he was kind enough to his first wife." Her tone was detached, clinical.

"Do you know any Pulu?"

"I know some. My languages tutor has been focused on courting phrases the last few months, so make of that what you will."

"You were always better at that sort of thing than I am." We sat for a long moment, not knowing what else to say. Again, Cecilia was the one to break the silence.

"What do you suppose it's like, living at some foreign court?"

"I don't know. I'll find out soon enough, won't I?"

"At least you get to come home after a year," she reminded me quietly. "You'll write to me, won't you?"

"When I'm in Ayortha? Or when you're… somewhere else?"

"Both. Either."

I smiled. "Try to stop me."

She bit her lip in an uncharacteristic show of hesitation before continuing. "You'll be seeing Emende again." I tensed. Somehow I'd managed to forget that the last time Cecilia and I had really spoken was after that whole mess. "No, don't be like that. It wasn't his fault, you know."

"Can we not bring this up again?"

"It wasn't, though. Emende is a decent person, and you know as well as I do that's hard to find in a courtier. I don't want you freezing him out on my account."

"For your information, I do not 'freeze people out.'"

"Really? What was my old tutor, then? Or that wench who was spreading rumors about me last winter?"

"You knew about that?"

She rolled her eyes. "She very abruptly stopped coming to court functions and nobody would so much as mention her name. I'm not stupid. My point is, Char, you can be scary when you want to be, and Emende doesn't deserve it."

"I think that's between Emende and me."

"Not when it's over my honor, it's not."

"Look, why does this matter to you so much?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "I feel bad, Char. Am I not allowed to feel bad? I completely screwed up that whole situation, and lord knows whether I'll ever see him again, and I… think I miss him."

Cecilia looked almost as surprised at this revelation as I felt. "You _miss_ him?"

She grimaced. "It's silly right? He wasn't even here a month."

"Not so silly. I've seen Ella all of four times."

She quickly held up a warning hand. "No, no, it's nothing like that, it's just… well, I don't _think_ it's like that. How are you supposed to know?"

"Is this why you were asking me the other day? About how I knew I was in love with Ella?"

She pouted. "Maybe."

"For the most determined flirt in all of Kyrria, you really don't have the first idea about romance, do you?" Cecilia's response was to hit me with a pillow, and I threw up my arms to defend myself, laughing. "I'm sorry, but you've spent the last few days teasing me, it's only fair."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I was looking for some brotherly advice here."

I grinned. "I'm not exactly an expert, you know. I've only been in love the once."

"Oh, don't worry, I'd never mistake you for an expert on anything. After all, your love is literally hiding from you." I blinked, my good mood dissipating, and Cecilia blanched. "I'm sorry, that was… sorry."

"It's all right."

"I've made a right hash of this conversation, haven't I?" She dug in her reticule for a moment, coming up with a folded bit of parchment. "My point was, first, that you should be nice to Emende when you see him. And second…" she pressed the paper into my hands. "I wrote him a letter. Could you—?"

I nodded. "I'll see that he gets it."

"Thanks." She enfolded me in a sudden, fierce hug. "I'll miss you, you idiot."

I laughed and held her just as tight. "With sweet talk like that, how can I ever leave?"


	30. Letters

**Dear Ella,**

**I wanted to take this opportunity to apologize for**

**Dear Ella,**

**What is it that you find so offensive about me that you felt the need to**

**Dear Ella,**

**I said I would write to you and so I am, but you can't possibly expect me to bare my soul to you when you refuse even to**

**Ella of Frell,**

**As your sovereign, I hereby command you to divulge any secret you may possess affecting your interactions with**

**Dearest Ella,**

**I am so sorry I didn't get the chance to see you before I left. I had hoped to ask you a question – [will you] [would you ever consider] [do you]**

**Dear Ella,**

**Do you really think you're too young to marry?**

I set down my pen and crumpled up the latest attempt at a letter. Nothing sounded right. I couldn't apologize when I wasn't sure what I was apologizing for, couldn't demand an explanation, couldn't carry on as if nothing had happened. I was running out of ink and parchment, the fire was burning low, and still I had nothing.

It would all have been much simpler if I could have just confronted Ella in person, but I couldn't bring myself to regret the late night with my family, even though it meant I was so late in waking that I had to rush just to get through my morning routine before Father was practically dragging me to set out.

For the most part, my party was the same as it had been for border patrol, but Sir Aubrey had been replaced with Sir Richard, a lad not much older than I. He hadn't been with the military very long, but he had family in Ayortha, which made him an ideal candidate to stay with me and provide translation and bodyguard services as needed when the rest of the men continued on to various temporary assignments.

A rustle from the underbrush brought me sharply back to the present, and at once I was on my feet. The night would really be complete if a band of ogres invaded the camp on my watch.

"Who's there?"

The wood was quiet, but it was the quiet of someone trying not to make a noise, rather than the quiet of no one there.

I raised my bow. "In the king's name, show yourself." Silence. My eyes found a pale spot near a tree, and I took aim. "Show yourself or I'll shoot."

The pale spot resolved into a form as the man stepped forward. I blinked. "Sir Richard?"

He waved his hands in the air. "Me, 's me. Don' 'urt me."

"Where on earth have you been?" As far as I knew, he should have been asleep in the camp with the rest of the men. Guard duty didn't change for a few hours yet, and even then it was Sir John's turn.

Sir Richard stepped forward to clap a hand on my shoulder. "J'st out, Y'r Highness. Di'nt mean t' wake ya."

"I wasn't asleep, I was on guard duty… are you drunk?"

"J'st a little," he said, holding two fingers apart.

"Sir Richard, I can smell your breath from here. Where did you even find a tavern? The nearest town is half a league at least."

"I sniff 'em out. Got the nose for it," he said, tapping his nose and waggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, realizing I'd get no sense out of the man tonight. "Go to sleep, soldier. We'll talk in the morning."

He gave a wobbly salute but made no move to leave. "Whatchu guardin'? Looks like letters t' me."

I quickly stuffed my parchment out of sight. "Sir Richard. You are intoxicated and insubordinate. Please go to sleep before you make things worse for yourself."

He gave a loud giggle. "S'nice, you and y'r letters. Never one for letters, m'self."

I swallowed the reply I wished to make, that perhaps there was simply no one to endure the indignity of corresponding with a drunken buffoon. Instead, I fought to keep my tone level. "I'm sorry to hear that. Correspondence can be an excellent way of passing the time, while on the road."

Richard shook his head impatiently. "No, no. _Letters_." He pantomimed writing in the air. "Don' like 'em. Can't work 'em."

I frowned, feeling inexplicably sorry for the man. "You're illiterate, you mean."

"Not… not ill-_lit_-trate," he said, his mouth working to pronounce the word. "Just don' get along with letters much."

"I could help you with that, if you like. Once you've sobered up, of course."

"Help me?"

"Well, you could decide who you'd like to write to, and I could help you find words that you… get along with."

"S'pose. Then they'd jus' write back."

"Well, that would be the point."

He shook his head. "Too much work."

"Don't you have anyone you care enough about to go to the effort of writing to keep in contact?" I asked with an encouraging smile, feeling at this point as though I were speaking to a small child.

"Have you?"

My smile slipped. "Maybe."

"Who's that, then?"

I gritted my teeth. "To bed, soldier. That's an order. And if I catch you sneaking away from camp again I'll have you dismissed."

Something in my tone must have finally gotten through to the man, because he saluted and stumbled off.

**. . .**

The next day when we set out, Richard was considerably the worse for wear, refusing his breakfast and wincing at loud noises. To his credit, he at least did not complain or slow us down.

It was a quiet morning for the most part. We were about a third of the way through the journey, and our path took us through the deepest part of the forest. Every hour brought thicker woods and a narrower path, till the dim light filtered greenly through the foliage to illuminate what might optimistically be called a game-trail. It was an ideal ambush spot for bandits, if any bandits were persistent enough to target such a little-used stretch and foolish enough to challenge a royal party.

It was a reasonable opportunity for a conversation I knew I needed to have. "Sir Richard, with me! I'd like to scout ahead, make sure the way is safe." I didn't turn in the saddle, only sped up my pace and trusted that Richard would follow. After a moment, I could hear his horse's hoofbeats cantering to catch up.

When I was sure we'd been swallowed up by woods and the other men couldn't eavesdrop, I spoke. "You have family in Ayortha, Richard?"

I still didn't look at him, tried my best to seem stern and princely. When he replied, he sounded appropriately nervous. "Yes, your Highness."

My instinct, always my first instinct, was to ask him to call me Char. None of the other men called me Highness – it was always "lad" or "son." But right then, in that moment, I needed all the authority I could muster. "You'll be seeing them soon, then," I remarked instead, keeping my voice light.

"Ye- no, your Highness. They're not at court, they've an estate in the country."

I frowned. "You were chosen as my knight specifically because you had connections at court."

"I go where they tell me to. That's all it is, being a soldier, yeah?" he responded casually. My disagreement must have showed in my face, because a moment later he gulped and added, "Your Highness."

"You'll find that being a soldier also means you are the face of Kyrria. It means you have to show some dignity." I was forcefully reminded of a month's worth of speeches to the guards at the Rhinian border.

"Yes, your Highness," he agreed dully.

"That means that you do not leave this camp without permission, and you certainly don't get yourself drunk when you might be called upon to defend us."

"Yes, your Highness."

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Now, last night I offered to help you with your writing."

"Yes, your Highness," he repeated in the same tone.

I shook my head, frustrated. "No more of that. I don't mind helping you write letters. When's the last time you wrote to your family?"

He paused. "Last spring, I think."

"Last spring?" I repeated, surprised. I couldn't imagine anyone going nearly a year without contacting his family, if only to assure them he was still alive and healthy. It had been only a few days since we set out, and already I'd seen all the men break away from the group in the evenings to start letters home. "Are you not on good terms, then?"

"Nah, we're fine. I just don't write much. They don't mind."

"What was last spring, then?"

"Oh, I got in a bit of trouble with a local, needed their help to straighten things out."

I considered this. "What kind of help could they offer you with a letter?"

"It was just a few KJs. Nothing to get too worked up over."

My jaw tightened. "If you can write them when you need money, then you can write them once in a while to keep in contact."

He shrugged. "If you say so."

"Tonight, I'll take first watch again. Once the others are asleep, come meet me and we'll get started."

**. . .**

I waited nearly an hour that night before it became clear that he wasn't coming. A perfunctory scan of the campsite revealed that he wasn't with the other men either.

In the quiet of my solitary vigil, I sighed and scrubbed my hand across my face. I had been lucky up to now that my men had for the most part respected my authority. I wasn't sure where luck came into the business with Sir Aubrey, but even he had been a model soldier up until his betrayal. I had very little idea how to handle disciplinary issues within my own ranks.

It wasn't as if I could approach one of the other men about it – it would come off as though I didn't know how to fight my own battles. And it would be even worse to write to Father for advice, now that he was finally giving me a bit of independence. Really, I thought, the opinion I most wanted was Ella's. Ella would know what to do.

I pulled out my next-to-last sheet of parchment.

**Dear Ella,**

**It's three days since I last saw you, and already I'm lost without you. You may think this a pretty exaggeration, but if navigation is left to the newest of my knights, I may well become so lost that I don't live to see Ayortha.**

I went on to describe, in great detail, the scene Richard had just caused.

**You'll think me mad to be asking your opinion on this matter. Perhaps I am mad. But it is still very new to me, having the command of a group of men older and more experienced than I. I very much want not to foul it up.**

**Growing up, I became very close to my family. I had my parents for guidance, my brothers for me to guide, and my sister to tease me. I love them all, but I've never known anyone like you. I've never had a friend like you, someone I could talk to as an equal. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me asking your opinion on any number of random matters, just for the thrill of knowing I can.**

**I joke about you putting up with me, but I do hope you feel the same way, that you consider me a friend. If my correspondence is a burden to you, please don't feel obligated to continue it simply because I am a prince. I won't ask what happened in the days before I left. That secret is yours to tell or not to tell as you see fit. But if you fail to respond to this letter, I promise you that I shall take the hint and leave you alone.**

**Your friend,**

**Char**

Satisfied, I tucked the letter away, to post as soon as we arrived in Ayortha.


	31. Ayortha

_AN: A quick thanks to Rebecca Bettencourt, the author of the KreativeKorp website. She has compiled a basic linguistic analysis of all the languages used in Ella Enchanted, including a lexicon for known words. Since it's been a few years since my last linguistics course, I'm just making up any Ayorthaian words I don't know._

_Also, as a reminder, "Call Me Char" is NOT CANON-COMPLIANT with anything from _Fairest_. Descriptions of the Ayorthaian court, characters, and customs come from _Ella Enchanted_ or from my own imagination._

Sir Richard was obviously hung over again the next morning, and just as obviously trying to avoid any situation where he might be alone with me. I wasn't sure what to do with him, so I let him evade me for the time being.

The path turned to paved road in the late afternoon, and soon enough we were clopping through the streets of the city. It was strange, riding in a place where no one knew my face. I hadn't realized how much I expected people to stare and bow as I passed, until I found myself as just another anonymous traveler.

The sun was just going down when we dismounted and passed our horses off to the Ayorthaian palace grooms. Armed with a letter from Father as promised, I went to seek out the royal family.

I'd barely made it three steps when I ran straight into Emende, dressed in riding gear and obviously bound for the stables. There was a moment of confusion as we righted ourselves, arms grasping for purchase, and then his eyes landed on my face. "Echare?"

I pulled back into a proper bow, fully aware of how unorthodox it was for me to appear unexplained in his home. "Emende. Abensa utyu itayi ubensu entore." (Good to see you again), I said, wincing as the unused syllables grated on my tongue and came out heavily accented.

He waved, a practiced gesture indicating that I needn't bow to him. "But what are you doing here?" he asked in Kyrrian.

"I've… come to stay. If that's all right. I have a letter for your father, here—" I held it out to him, but he waved it away.

"Of course." He smiled. Two words, but the calm look on his face said everything that needed to be said. I smiled back.

"Please, I wouldn't want to interrupt your ride. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other soon enough."

"Nonsense. Come." He grabbed my hand to pull me into the castle.

It was odd. I hadn't been led about by the hand since I'd outgrown the need for a nursemaid, but Emende obviously thought nothing of the gesture. Coming into the great hall, I noticed a pair of courtiers, also holding hands, and as we passed, Echare raised our joined hands in greeting.

I made a mental note to find a book on Ayorthaian etiquette as soon as possible. The whole ritual felt familiar, but it had been many years since my last lesson.

We stopped just inside the doors of the throne room. It was very similar to the one I was used to at home – a large, mostly empty room with tapestries all along the walls, although where our tapestries depicted famous Kyrrian battles, theirs seemed to be beautifully rendered maps of Ayortha and the surrounding kingdoms. King Ormono and Queen Ivri were sat on a raised dais at one end of the room; currently, their attention was on a man kneeling before them, speaking in rapid Ayorthaian about some sort of grain shortage.

I took the opportunity to study them both, my hosts for the next year. King Ormono had a broad, earnest face, his eyes the same shocking blue as Emende's and wide with concern as he heard the commoner's story. Every time he spoke, everyone in the room – the queen, the commoner, the guards at the door, even Emende beside me – leaned in to hear.

Queen Ivri spoke little, but her eyes never left the man's face, and I could tell she missed nothing. She too bore a strong resemblance to her son, with dark wavy hair and posture perfectly straight.

They must have reached a satisfying conclusion, because when the man stood and was led away, his shoulders were slumped with relief. Emende pulled me forward.

"Ullu. Ummu. Oviolo affirinsa Echarmonte o Akyrria." (Mother. Father. This is Prince Charmont of Kyrria.) I was relieved that it was simple enough for me to understand the words. I dropped into another bow.

"Abensa oviolo omerteno ailla," I said, forming each word carefully. This was the correct formal greeting, and I'd certainly had it drilled into me enough times to say it perfectly.

They both inclined their heads in acknowledgement, but it was the king who replied. "Omerteno ailla," he said, accepting my greeting. "But this is such a surprise! What brings you to Ayortha, Prince Echarmonte?"

"Please, if you don't mind, I've already told Prince Emende that he may call me Echare." Speaking Ayorthaian, it was easier to understand the adjustment of my name. The vowels rolled off my tongue.

The king shook his head. "That would not be appropriate, Prince Echarmonte."

This was not the most promising beginning for what I hoped would be a friendly living situation.

"I come bearing a letter from my father that I hope will explain all." I stepped forward to hand off the missive to King Ormono, who took it and read quickly, with a deepening frown.

"This is serious news indeed. But of course you should stay with us, as long as you wish."

The queen clapped, and a servant melted from the shadows. "See that a suite is prepared for Prince Echarmonte."

Ormono made a satisfied noise. "There, you see? It is all settled. Emende can show you around until your rooms are ready."

"Thank you," I said. "My men will require accommodation as well, at least for the night."

"It is done," said Ormono, and the room descended into silence. I think everyone was thinking, but was too polite to say, _is that all_?

Then Emende was pulling at my hand again. "Come, Echare. Let us leave Mother and Father to their court."

I waited until we had left the room to let out a soft huff of air. "I hadn't imagined that you were the talkative one in your family," I murmured to Emende.

He shrugged. "It is the way of things at court. But you are most welcome here, as my father said, for as long as you wish."

I winced and backpedaled. "Thank you. I really do appreciate your hospitality, and I didn't mean to imply any insult."

"Of course." He stopped near the main entrance to the castle. "It will be perhaps three hours before you can settle in. What would you like to see?"

I warred with myself for a moment. I wanted to see everything. I'd spent the better part of my life exploring the castle at home, and the idea of a new and different castle was enticing. I wanted to slide down the stair rails, run through the gardens, discover the secret passageways. But I had also been riding hard for three days, and my body was starting to remind me of that fact.

"Is there someplace we could sit?" I asked finally. "I might like a few moments to take it all in."

"Oh, I hadn't thought. You must be tired. Come, we can relax in my rooms until yours are ready." I tried to protest, but he was already pulling me along. "I realize suddenly, this explains the mysterious letter that arrived earlier today. The envelope was addressed to the royal family, but the letter was not written to any of us."

I frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Nor did I. I did not read it, I assure you. Only enough to realize that it was meant for you. And now, here you are."

A possibility crept into my mind, but I tried to push it down. "I'd be interested to see it, then." My hand flew to my belt purse. "Come to think of it, I have a letter for you as well. Cecilia sends her… affection." I choked back the word "love," deciding it was a bit too strange coming from me.

He smiled hesitantly. "Ah, and how is Cecilia? I have not spoken to her, since…" he trailed off, blushing.

I honestly didn't know how I was supposed to feel about Emende, now that Cecilia had admitted she cared for him. It was all so unprecedented.

"I think it's best we don't discuss the last time you saw my sister. But she's been well. You know Cecilia, she's always somewhere halfway between going mad with boredom and driving everyone else mad with her latest whim." We arrived at Emende's rooms, and he finally dropped my hand to let me in. I immediately dropped onto the sitting room sofa, sighing at the ache in my legs. "Perhaps we could trade letters."

Tentatively he held out his hand, and I passed him Cecilia's missive, determinedly not thinking about what it might say. In return, he pulled a few neatly creased sheets of parchment from a drawer.

I didn't recognize the hand, but that tantalizing possibility had me impatiently skimming to the last page, looking for the signature.

There it was. **Your impatient friend, Ella.** I read the words several times, feeling something large and warm unfurl in my chest. She was my friend. She had written to me, so quickly that the letter arrived before I did. Whatever else I might hope or fear, there was this, and I would have a year's worth of letters to look forward to from my friend.

Focus now firmly on the pages in front of me, I flipped back to the beginning.

**Dear Char,**

**I have been confined to my room. I saw you come to visit and saw you leave. I waved, but you must not have seen. Father is vexed with me. It has nothing to do with you. He was insulted that I left the wedding early.**

**Two more days remain to my sentence. Now that you are gone and I can no longer hope to tell you goodbye, it is not so terrible. I hope you will still write to me, and not only about Ayortha.**

I paused. The explanation seemed plausible enough, but it didn't quite ring true. If Ella was forbidden from seeing me, why would Hattie lie about it? Certainly I could believe Hattie capable of fabrication, but she struck me as the type who would revel in her stepsister being punished.

Still, it wasn't enough to quench the warmth. Ella had wanted to say goodbye. She wanted to write. She wanted me.

The letter continued with questions, questions no one had ever asked me before, about who I was, what I cared about. I'd have to think how to answer them honestly without scaring her away.

And then, best of all, she started to share a bit of herself with me. One story in particular caught my eye.

**In the month before Mother died, we thought to play a trick on the head maid, Bertha. I am sure that you are far too good and dutiful to ever think taunting your servants in this way, but that is why you are royalty and I am not.**

**Bertha is afraid of everything, but especially ghosts. I can't count how many times she's claimed to have seen a shadowy figure out of the corner of her eye, or sworn that something moved around in her absence. So Mother and I took it in turns. I would take something small, a rag or a duster, and then Mother would call for Bertha to come and clean for her. As soon as Bertha noticed something missing, Mother would distract her and I would replace it with something else from my little collection. We just about drove Bertha mad.**

**When we fell ill, the game was suspended, and when Mother died, I was left with a mop in my room and no idea what to do with it. I suppose Bertha must have reclaimed it after I left for finishing school. It's strange, the things that felt unfinished.**

I had heard the story of the haunted mop months ago, from Lydia. Back then, Ella had been little more than a faceless point of curiosity. To read it now, to finally get Ella's story from Ella herself, was a heady feeling.

The letter was everything I could have wished – funny, incisive, personal – the only thing that might have improved it was a declaration of undying love, but I supposed that was too much to hope for. I sat there reading it, ignoring my host, for much longer than was entirely polite.

When I finally looked up, Emende had apparently finished with Cecilia's letter, but was still holding it, staring off into space.

I cleared my throat. "I hope my sister hasn't said anything too cutting. I've corresponded with her once or twice myself, and her wit doesn't always translate too well on the page."

He nodded slowly. "She was perfectly polite."

I couldn't read his tone, and he didn't seem eager to elaborate. I warred with myself for a moment about whether to let it drop, but I couldn't deny our kinship in that moment, both holding letters from maidens we loved. "I can't offer to carry back your reply personally, but I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

He swallowed. "Yes. Perhaps."

I took a breath. "Listen. I know what I said, all those months ago, that Cecilia didn't take men seriously. But…"

"Stop," he said, more harshly than I'd expected. "Let us not talk of the past. Would you like me to order you supper?"

Without waiting for a response, he strode over to ring for a servant. I watched him in confusion. True, the subject was awkward between us, but even after I'd punched him I don't think Emende had looked this tense. "Supper sounds lovely," I said cautiously. "Have you already eaten?"

"Yes." A knock came at the door, and he went to answer it.

I stood to follow. "That was quick. At home it always takes the servants several minutes to respond."

He pulled the door open to reveal not a servant, but an obviously noble lady around our age, dressed for riding. "Hello, Emende," she said with a smile. "I didn't run into you on your ride, so I thought I would ask you to take tea in the dining room."

Emende turned to me, his face serious. "Prince Echarmonte, may I present my fiancée, Lady Aliana?"


	32. Lady Aliana

At certain moments in my life, I am achingly grateful for my many years of sitting through speeches, nodding through Father's lectures, smiling politely through courtiers trying to influence me. When I need to, I can put on a bland, princely mask and survive almost anything.

So when Emende introduced his fiancée, I only froze for a moment before placing a kiss on her extended hand and murmuring a greeting. If my gut was churning and Emende's odd behavior was all clicking into place in my head, well, at least I was reasonably confident that it didn't show on my face.

"Please, Lady Aliana," I said, "Feel free to join us. A servant should be by in a moment, I'm sure he could bring tea for you and Emende." I glanced at Emende for approval of this plan, but his face mirrored my own in its detachment.

"I'd like that," Aliana said smoothly, and floated past me to perch on the sofa.

Suddenly Emende was in motion, snatching up the letter from the table and crossing the room to close it in a drawer with a resounding click. His posture relaxed slightly once the letter was out of sight. "Prince Echarmonte has just arrived in Ayortha. We were renewing our acquaintance," he told Aliana.

If she noticed anything odd in his manner, Aliana didn't mention it. "I'm sure any friend of Emende's is a friend of mine," she said to me.

I offered her my best princely smile. "I appreciate it. And let me congratulate you on your engagement. I have to say, I'm a bit surprised. Usually this kind of gossip travels fast."

"I'm sure it does. But even gossip cannot travel faster than messengers, and our engagement is only a few days old."

So perhaps he hadn't forgotten my sister the moment he returned to Ayortha. That was something.

"Lady Aliana's father owns much of the land north of the mountains," Emende offered quietly.

"Emende – _Prince_ Emende – has made us feel most welcome at court," she agreed.

I nodded. "And have you been here long?"

"Barely a sennight," she replied.

"Barely a sennight, and already engaged. That is quite fast, even by the standards of the royal marriage market." I paused. "Forgive me. That was impolite. I'm afraid I am a bit tired, and apt to say things I don't mean."

Aliana smiled graciously. "Of course. And you are right; it is quite fast. But Emende and I shall have all our lives to get to know each other, yes?"

Emende reached out to rest his hand lightly on top of hers. "That is right."

I didn't know how to respond without further offending my hosts, and neither of them seemed inclined to break the ensuing silence. I got the sinking feeling that I should get used to sitting in silence at the Ayorthaian court.

We were rescued by a knock at the door – it was in fact the servants this time, and they were quick about bringing a hot meal for me and cups of tea for the others.

The food was simple fare, meat and potatoes seasoned with herbs, probably the same that the kitchen staff were eating after finishing with serving the royal family for the night. I had never smelled anything more delicious. It took every ounce of enforced etiquette training to keep the movements of my fork dainty, deliberate, restraining the clink of metal against china to avoid ringing through the still-silent room.

Between bites, I studied Emende, wondering if he was as glad as I to have something to do with his hands. He'd relinquished contact with Aliana in order to hold his cup, and both seemed entirely preoccupied with the act of sipping tea, to the exclusion of any possible conversation.

"Your kitchens are excellent," I offered finally, once I had taken the first edge off my hunger. "I have rarely had a meal I enjoyed so much."

"Thank you," Emende said.

It was difficult to tell if this was Emende uncomfortable and shy, or merely Emende acting as usual in his natural habitat. I turned to Aliana. "I trust your journey to court was satisfactory?"

She nodded. "All was well."

Emende apparently remembered enough of Kyrrian conversations to rescue me before I either attempted another segue or ran from the room in frustration. "And you, Echare? I have heard rumors that you encountered ogres since last I saw you. No such adventures in your journey here, I hope?"

Grateful for something to talk about, I launched into the story of tracking the ogres on the path to Jenn, skimming over the parts best concealed even from an allied country. Thus passed a tolerable, if still slightly stilted, half hour before the servants returned to collect our dishes.

When they were gone, Emende stood, Aliana and I standing a beat later so as not to be seated in the resident prince's presence. He cast us a bemused glance before he realized. "You may sit," he told us. "I will go and check if Echare's rooms are ready."

I cast him a betrayed glance as he left the room. He either didn't see or chose to ignore me. The door shut behind him with a soft click.

I turned to Aliana. "Looks as if we're alone, then."

She didn't bother with a verbal response, only raised an eyebrow as if to say, _obviously_.

I sat, and in turn she lowered herself gracefully into a chair, folding her hands in her lap and crossing her ankles. Once she had settled herself into the formal posture, she didn't shift or fidget at all, not once in the five minutes we spent sitting in silence.

Everything about Aliana gave off an aura of controlled grace. Her dark hair was neatly bound up in a chignon, her gray dress so smooth it practically dared wrinkles to encroach, her eyes serene as she studied me in turn.

"You dislike me," she said finally.

"What? I… no… that is, I hardly know you, but from what I do know, I have no reason to dislike you," I stammered.

"And yet, it is true. You dislike me."

"Lady Aliana, if I've done anything to cause you offense—"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted, "whether you like me or not. I shall marry Emende quite soon, and it's best if you don't get in the way of that." The words themselves were almost innocuous, but something in her tone gave them a menacing edge.

"I can't imagine how it would even be possible for me to interfere with your wedding, let alone why I would want to," I assured her.

"Ottomaio illi," she said evenly.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, normally my Ayorthaian is passable, but I don't know what you just said."

She said nothing, only held my eyes. From behind me, the door clicked open again. "Echare," came Emende's voice, "your rooms are ready for you. If you would follow me?"

I stood, somehow unwilling to break eye contact with Aliana, stumbling around the corner of the sofa. At the last moment I remembered to take Ella's letter from the table in front of me.

Aliana smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Echarmonte. Welcome to Ayortha."

"Thank you," I said.

Emende offered her a bow. "Lady Aliana, you may stay here if you wish."

"I thank you, but no. I will see you tomorrow, Emende." All three of us walked out, Emende and I turning right, Aliana turning left and gliding off down the corridor until she disappeared from sight.

"Emende," I said quietly, reverting to Kyrrian, "what does 'ottomaio illi' mean?"

He glanced at me in surprise. "Where did you hear that?"

"I…" I swallowed. "What does it mean?"

"It does not translate well. It is… a warning, I suppose. A thing to say to your enemy, to let him know he is an enemy."

"Right." I swallowed.

We came to a door and Emende paused at the threshold, watching me. "Lady Aliana is a kind woman," he blurted out, apropos of nothing.

I couldn't quite agree, so I remained silent.

"She is just the sort of woman I always knew I would marry," he continued. "She makes sense."

"Then I'm happy for you," I said in a measured tone.

He went to open the door, but his hand lingered on the handle. "Do you plan to write to your sister?"

"I promised her I would, yes."

"Thank her for the letter, please. And tell her that I wish her a good life. Tell her… tell her that I hope she dances often."

And with that vague message, he scurried away.

I entered the suite slowly. It was almost identical to the guest suites at home, consisting of a sitting room, study, small servant's quarters, and a larger bedroom for me. I wondered idly if I was meant to keep Sir Richard in the servant's quarters, and shuddered at the thought.

I was tired, but I felt all the strain of the last few hours gathered in a ball at the base of my spine, and I was sure that I wouldn't be able to sleep until it had dissipated. I turned from the bedroom to the study, sitting at the desk and unfolding Ella's letter with a sigh. I would reread it and draft a reply. That was sure to put me in a better mood.

**Dear Emende,** I read, and abruptly set the paper down, rubbing at my eyes. Obviously I'd left Emende's rooms with the wrong letter.

I shouldn't read it. I knew I shouldn't read it. I could only imagine Cecilia's reaction if she found out I'd read it.

On the other hand, it might be better to know what she'd said. She'd seemed confused when I talked to her. I was the one who'd spoken of love, not her. Maybe there was no reason to be upset on her behalf.

I knew it was only a sophism, an excuse to satisfy my own curiosity, but still, I opened the letter again and scanned through Cecilia's familiar scribble.

**Dear Emende,**

**You've ruined me.**

**I'm sure you didn't mean to do it, but the fact remains. Before I met you, I was so bored and lonely, but I was used to it. I barely even noticed most of the time. Now you're gone, and my dumb brother's going to be gone for a year, and everything is just dull.**

**That wasn't how I meant to start this letter. It needed to be said. But what I really want to say is, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for rejecting you and kissing you and confusing you, and I'm sorry that I didn't find a way to make it up to you before you left. I'm sorry I didn't even talk to you before you left. I'm sorry it's been months and I'm just now working up the nerve to send you a letter.**

**I'd never kissed anyone before you. I don't know if this is how kissing normally goes. But I keep thinking about it, Emende. I'll be walking along, perfectly bored and thinking about nothing in particular, and I'll flash back to your lips touching mine. **

**The night of the ball, you said you weren't much of a dancer. You're not. Frankly, you're terrible. But when we were kissing, it felt like dancing. It made me feel the way I feel when I dance. Like there's a balloon tied to the bottom of my ribcage and if I move just so, I might be light enough to let it carry me away.**

**I don't know what any of that means. I don't think I'm in love with you. I'm sure I'm just being immature and flighty, and once I'm married off to the highest bidder in the surrounding kingdoms, I'll forget all about you. I don't plan to ever fall in love, you know.**

**But I'm writing you this letter anyway, because I think you deserve to know. Maybe you could write back, and we could be friends. I could use a friend. When we're both a little older, ruling over two different kingdoms, we can trade stories about unruly subjects and ridiculous courtiers.**

**Or we could marry each other. I think I might be all right with that. I like you a lot more than I like Viceroy Gareth of Pu, considering that I've never even met Viceroy Gareth of Pu. Our parents would probably approve. I'm sure that's the least romantic marriage proposal you've ever had, assuming you've had marriage proposals before. Think about it, though.**

**Unromantically yours,**

**Cecilia**

I set it down on the desk, frowned, picked it up and read it again. I didn't know if this was better or worse than what I had been expecting.

Cecilia was never sentimental. For her to admit that she couldn't stop thinking about Emende… that was big. And a marriage proposal, even one supposedly born of expediency, threw me off balance. It wasn't a love letter, not exactly, but Cecilia wouldn't be happy when Emende didn't write back.

I didn't like the idea of her finding out about the engagement, in a day's time, maybe two. A royal messenger would appear at breakfast, carrying word from all the neighboring kingdoms. Would she stiffen when they mentioned Emende's name? Would she go back to her rooms and cry? Or would she shrug off an outcome she'd obviously known was possible?

I found pen and parchment tucked into a desk drawer, and penned a brief note. It was doubtless too late to reach her before she found out, but at the very least I could send her Emende's message, such as it was, and a noncommittal account of Lady Aliana. By the time she received it, she would be past the first shock of the news, and would appreciate being able to hear it confirmed and move on.

I leaned back in my chair and stretched. I imagined how I might feel if I got word that Ella was to marry someone else. Even the thought made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

Tomorrow, I would have to reclaim my own letter from Emende. I could tell Ella how quiet everyone was here so far, and she could provide me with some much-needed conversation.

In the meantime, I rang for a servant and handed him my note for Cecilia. "Make sure this gets out with the first post tomorrow, please."

That duty discharged, I collapsed on the bed and slept.

_Thank you to everyone who has made this the most-favorited story on FFNet for Ella Enchanted. I have the best readers. Check back next Thursday for another update._


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